Bat-Wolf
by Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt
Summary: Every time Dick Grayson's mysterious new guardian disappears, the boy spots a large black wolf hovering at the edge of the property. What else is an imaginative, eight-year-old boy supposed to think about that? (Daddy Bruce fluffiness be here!) {2nd in the YDG series}
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place after my story, "Skipping Stones". At this point, Dick's placement with Bruce Wayne is still considered a temporary necessity.**

 **Young, eight year old Dick Grayson has been living at the manor for about a month, and has just come out of his grief long enough to start taking a look around. He does not yet know that his new guardian is a vigilante called Batman, but he is curious about the strange goings on that is happening. Dick is apparently a bit of an amateur sleuth himself, so when he spies a large wolf/dog lurking about, his child's logic makes some startling deductions about the nature of Bruce's nightly disappearances.**

 **I do not own Batman. I do own a boatload of his comics, however. Thank you, DC and Bob Kane, for that, but especially for creating my all-time, favorite comic book character of all time: Dick Grayson! (Sorry, Bruce, but my heart belongs to Dick!)**

 **No Warnings . . .**

* * *

Very slowly Dick was settling into a routine at the manor. Most mornings Dick would breakfast with Bruce before he left for the office, and then he would spend a few hours with Alfred going over basics as the butler-cum-everything determined for himself where the boy was at in regards to his schooling. Some of it was boring, but sometimes Alfred would show him something new.

He wasn't sure why the butler was so surprised by his education; his mother had spent hours every morning homeschooling him. There were still a few subjects he wasn't as good at, but all in all, Alfred seemed to be pleased with his progress. Dick spent the afternoons reading, exploring the gardens, or playing in the gymnasium.

The gymnasium; that was his favorite place, although he was limited to mats, a climbing rope, and a pommel horse. It was filled with both free weights and machines, neither of which he was allowed to touch without a grown-up's help. He had never used a pommel horse before, but Sally taught him to do all kinds of things on the trick ponies that he could do on the stationary equipment. It was much easier than working with an actual moving horse since he didn't have to constantly adjust his balance and momentum to compensate for the ponies' prancing. As a result, it wasn't nearly as much fun.

Dick wiped his face on a towel and went to take a drink out of his water bottle. He frowned when it came up empty. He trotted over to the mini fridge in the corner that Alfred kept stocked with water and sports drinks. When it, too, was empty, Dick was force to go searching for the elder man.

It wasn't always easy finding him. The house was humongous and the butler could be anywhere. He would try the kitchen first, he decided. If Alfred wasn't there, maybe he could just help himself out of the refrigerator. He left the gym and started up the hallway that led to the more public areas of the house. He glanced up just in time to see the butler disappear behind the door to Bruce's study.

"Alfred," the boy called out, but the door had already closed behind the man.

He ran after him, but stopped outside the door. This was Bruce's study. In the time he had been here, Dick had watched Bruce enter this room, shut the door, and not come out for hours. Although no one had actually come right out and told him that it was off limits, Dick just kind of assumed it was a no-kid zone.

Unsure how long the butler intended to stay in the room, Dick decided to knock. He waited, but no one answered the door. Frowning, he knocked again a little harder. When still no one opened the door, Dick turned the knob and peeked into the room.

"Alfred?"

Dick pushed the door open and stepped into the study. No one was here! He noticed a glass door that led to the patio and walked over to it, but found it was locked from the inside. Alfred couldn't have gone through here. He turned back to the room at large.

There were a few bookshelves and a file cabinet that looked like a piece of fine furniture rather than the beat-up, metal one that Mr. Haley had in his office trailer. The desk was a dark wood and was large and imposing with a leather chair behind it. There was a fireplace with a seating arrangement in front of it. Across from the desk in the middle of the far wall was a grandfather clock. It had the wrong time, he noticed, and it made Dick wonder if Bruce realized that it was broken.

But, scanning the room, it became obvious that there were no other doors . . .

Dick was certain that he saw Alfred come in here. Worried that he would be discovered 'snooping' in Bruce's office, Dick walked out and closed the door behind him. He would just go and get his drink himself, then.

He was almost to the kitchen when he heard a door open behind him. He turned around as saw Alfred coming from the study Dick had just been in!

"Master Richard? Were you looking for me?"

"I-I was coming to get a drink," Dick stammered, confused. "The refrigerator in the gym is empty."

"Oh, dear," Alfred said, apologetically. "I'll see to it that it gets stocked and remains so. You use the gymnasium much more frequently than Master Bruce. I should have realized . . ."

"No, it's okay, Alfred! Really," Dick said quickly. He didn't want to be any trouble. "I can always go to the kitchen for a drink if I need it."

"Nonsense," Alfred chided, placing a hand on Dick's shoulder and steering him into the kitchen. "The refrigerator was placed in there for that express purpose. Do not worry, young sir. It will not happen again."

Dick bit his lip. He didn't mean to make more work for the man. A little worry niggled in the back of his mind that if he became a problem; if one of the men deemed him troublesome, Bruce might send him back those people. CPS. They might send him back to the detention center. A shot of fear spiked through him. He hadn't liked that place at _all_!

Alfred handed Dick a bottle of Gatorade.

"Thank you," he mumbled. "Um, Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Richard? Is there anything else I might do for you?" Alfred asked graciously.

"Where were you a little bit ago," he asked.

"I beg your pardon, young sir? I believe you saw me when I came out of Master Bruce's study," he told him carefully.

Dick shrugged. "I peeked in to see if you were there, but I didn't see anyone. I guess it just surprised me."

"Indeed," Alfred murmured, an odd expression on his face.

Dick's eyes went large. "I-I didn't mean to intrude," he said, hurriedly. "I just wanted to get a drink, and thought . . . thought . . ."

"Thought what, Master Richard?"

Alfred was staring at him now and Dick toed the tiles, nervously.

"I thought you might be in there," he finished lamely.

"I was dusting the furniture," Alfred said. "You must have missed seeing me. Perhaps I was bending over taking care of the lower shelves of one of the bookcases?"

Dick knew that wasn't the case. He had walked into the room; no one had been there! But Dick was afraid to call the man a liar. He nodded to allow the elder gentleman to think that he had believed his tall tale.

"Is there anything else you will be requiring of me? If not, then it is time to begin the dinner preparations," Alfred said, not unkindly.

Dick shook his head, preoccupied. "I should go shower and change," he replied. As he started to leave the kitchen, a thought struck him and he turned around. "Do you need any help," he asked politely. "My m-mom would sometimes ask me to wash the vegetables for her and set the table."

Alfred smiled warmly. "If you would like to help me prepare dinner, I don't see why not, but you will need to hurry as I plan to start right away. There won't be much for you to do, but you are welcome to keep me company."

"Okay," Dick agreed; happy that he found a way to repay the kindness done to him, and eager to find more. Maybe if he worked hard and helped a lot, he might be able to stay.

* * *

He was gone the next instant. And Alfred was left contemplating the change in the boy over the course of the past week. No longer was he the sullen, depressed child who preferred solitude. Dick had begun showing a far more cheerful side; one that Alfred suspected was far closer to the child's actual personality.

Master Richard still seemed too quiet and thoughtful for a child his age, but Alfred had been witness to bursts of energy and excited chatter on occasion . . . And even a little bit of laughter. It made the elder man smile to recall it. Definitely an addictive sound, and contagious as well, as Alfred remembered the difficulty he had maintaining the proper stiffness of his upper lip during that occurrence.

Indeed, Master Bruce had reacted in much the same way, and had even graced them with a rare, but genuine smile in response to the joyful cackling of a delighted child. The two older men found themselves ever hopeful of hearing a repeat performance. _Perhaps_ , the butler thought, _tonight, after dinner_.

* * *

Dick rolled over onto his side and sighed. It seemed like all he did lately was sleep, but considering that he hadn't slept well since . . . Well, since _that_ night, he supposed he needed it. Unfortunately, his body had decided that it was done sleeping at, he looked at the clock, eleven pm.

His new guardian had really been trying to make him feel at home; making an effort to be at dinner every evening and they had taken three more walks down by the lake over the past week. He grinned, remembering the sight of Bruce chucking his rock too hard and it making a big splash instead of skipping across the water like Dick's did. He was doing better, but Dick took a secret delight in being better than he was at skipping rocks.

Dick sat up as a shaft of moonlight penetrated his room. Gotham City's weather had more clouds than anywhere Dick could remember that the circus traveled. Rays of sun or beams of moonlight seldom penetrated the dark gray mass that usually made up the skies around here. The beam of light drew him as few things could.

He scrambled out of bed and padded over to the window seat in socked feet.

No matter what the thermostat was set on, the old house always seemed to have a cold draft running along the floor, chilling Dick's toes. He climbed onto the cushioned seat and wriggled his toes inside of his new socks.

No holes!

Of course, his m-mom had never let Dickie run around in holey socks either, but unable to afford to buy a new pair every time Dick wore through them, she took to darning the holes. These were brand-new! He had been excited to get new socks, but felt guilty when Alfred pulled out seven pairs for his use. They were even different colors! His other socks had just been plain old white.

He looked out the window and saw that the moon was almost full! It lit up the formal garden that was below his window. _What a great view_!

He could see the hedgerow maze and the herb garden that Alfred tended himself. There were roses, although they were cut back for winter, and patches where the gardeners had planted annuals for spring. The grass was thick and lush; so much so that Dick longed for warm weather so that he could run out on it in his bare feet.

The gardens were huge, but from Dick's vantage point, he could see all the way to the tree line beyond. The moon was so bright that it looked like it was daytime. At least until you reached the trees. They hid in delicious shadows that looked kind of creepy, and Dick shivered in typical boyish delight. He imagined all kinds of creatures roaming in the woods.

His mom didn't care for the old stories of monsters and magic, but his father had recognized a like-minded spirit and spent many of night telling Dick stories of the old country; stories that _his_ father had told to him when he was a little boy. The Rom had great stories about witches and werewolves and vampires. His father had told him that the stories were to teach lessons as well as to entertain, and they did!

He felt a twinge in his chest and suddenly there was a sharp prickling behind his eyes.

He father would never tell Dick another story ever again . . .

His tears hovered on the edge of his lashes; afraid to fall although Bruce had assured him that it was safe to cry here. But it was hard to unlearn the lesson he had been given while in the detention center. But he didn't shove the emotions down so firmly as before. The occasional tear would fall now, but it did so silently.

It was his pain, after all . . . His to feel; his to cling to. His grief was all he had left of his parents, and while he hated being sad most of the time, he hoarded it still. He wouldn't share it; not with people who didn't know them, much less care. He felt like Bruce understood a little. Maybe Alfred knew, too, but Dick still preferred to keep it close to himself.

The sight outside his window had grown familiar to him as this had been one of his favorite places to sit. He had thought of how his mother would have loved the roses and would have thought the maze romantic. It had made him smile until he remembered that she would never get to see the gardens here now. He thought that maybe his father might not have cared for the rich man's world his son now found himself immersed in, but he had not been like most Roms in that he spurned the gadjo; that he had chosen to marry Dick's mother was proof of that. No, his father simply preferred the simple itinerant life of a circus aerialist acrobat. He had no use for rich men and their toys.

Dick fingered the fancy material that made up the draperies to his bedroom window. It was a huge improvement to his first stop after CPS had taken him from the only home he had ever known. At least this window hadn't any bars and he could open it if he wanted to. His father might not have approved of the luxury, but he wouldn't have complained. And Dick thought that his father would have preferred for his son to be safe, even if he did disprove of the lifestyle.

As his gaze traveled back over the gardens, Dick spotted movement; a darker shadow moving amongst the shadow of the trees that lined the outer perimeter of the formal gardens. Curious, he got up onto his knees as if the extra foot of height he gained would somehow improve his vision.

 _What is that_?

Some sort of animal, to be sure! A deer, perhaps? The shadow separated from the safety of the trees and stepped into the moonlight. Dick's eyes widened in recognition.

 _A wolf_!

It was the largest wolf Dick had ever seen, and he had seen a few. His parents, knowing his love of animals, would take him to the zoos and parks in nearly every stop the circus had made. One such zoo out west had had buffalo, elk, a grizzly bear, and a few timber wolves. Those wolves had been huge! The male had been taller than Dick at the time; standing easily to his father's waist. Although it was hard to tell at this distance, Dick was certain that this one was even bigger.

He unlatched the casement window and swung it out. The window was taller than Dick was. He climbed to his feet and carefully stepped onto the ledge outside. He held onto the window, not that he needed to for balance, but it had rained earlier and the ledge was wet. He leaned out as far as he could go and stared.

The wolf had its nose in the air; sniffing, Dick thought, for food. He hadn't known there were wild wolves in this area of the country. It was so close to the house, though, it could be dangerous for both the inhabitants of the manor as well as for the wolf itself. He had better go let someone know.

At his movement, the wolf suddenly turned its head and seemed to look directly at Dick. It stared back at him across the distance. The beast looked solid black, although the moonlight highlighted its fur with a silvery glint. It was beautiful. Fascinated, despite himself, Dick waved a little. He could see the head of the wolf nod before it turned and ran back into the woods.

Dick let himself back into his room. He closed the window and hooked the latch. It had been like a dream, he thought, staring at the now empty spot the wolf had been just a moment before.

He scrambled down off of the window seat and ran to the door. He was too excited to tell his tale to bother with a robe and his new slippers. He knew his guardian didn't go to bed this early, so without hesitation, he turned toward the stairs and headed straight for Bruce's study.

* * *

There was a light under the door.

He had been right. Bruce was still awake. Dick walked to the door with a scuffing noise made from slippers on tile. He paused and listened, but couldn't hear anything.

He knocked.

And then knocked again.

When there was no answer the second time, Dick turned the handle and peeked into the room. No one was here. The fire was banked already. He wandered over to where a cup of coffee set on the blotter. Carefully, Dick touched the cup. It was cold. Bruce hadn't been in here for a while, Dick thought.

Maybe he went to the kitchen?

Dick left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and made his way to the big, shiny kitchen. A light was on in there also. Maybe they were both in there; Bruce and Alfred. Even if it were only Alfred, Dick could tell the man about the wolf and go on to bed, satisfied he had done the right thing.

Dick pushed open the swinging door and walked into a deserted room. The kitchen was clean as a whistle; all of Alfred's chores in here apparently done. But why would he leave the light on, and the one in the study, before retiring? He knew Bruce was rich, but he didn't appear wasteful.

He was just stepping out of the kitchen when the door to Bruce's study opened and Alfred stepped out alone. Dick's mouth dropped open and he blinked. The butler, noticing him standing there, moved quickly toward him.

"Master Richard! You're supposed to be in bed," Alfred exclaimed. "What seems to be the problem? Did you have a bad dream?"

Dick shook himself. "Uh . . . No, sir. I woke up and . . . Where is Bruce?"

Alfred's eyebrow rose. "Master Bruce was called away, I'm afraid."

"This late?"

"Indeed, young sir. It has been known to happen. Now then, is there something that I might do for you in the meantime," the man asked him.

At first, Dick wanted to ask him where he came from, but remembered that the butler had lied to him this afternoon about being in the study. _Just tell him about the wolf and go to bed. Don't be trouble_ , he reminded himself, sternly.

"I-I was looking outside a little while ago and saw a wolf near the garden," he said. "I thought someone should know."

The butler looked surprised, and then he seemed to come to some decision and nodded with a slight smile. "I do believe you must have awoken from a dream, young sir," he said, confidently.

Dick frowned. "No sir. I wasn't dreaming. I saw it moving in the shadows and then it stepped into the moonlight and I could see it."

Alfred's expression morphed into a more serious mien. "Perhaps a stray dog might have gotten on the property, then."

"It would have been a really, really big dog," Dick argued.

Alfred smiled reassuringly and patted the boy on the shoulder. "There haven't been wolves seen in this part of the country in more than eighty years. Even if there were, the likelihood that it would come this close to civilization would be quite slender."

Dick huffed. He knew what he saw. "But . . ."

"I'm quite positive that you were dreaming the whole thing," Alfred interrupted. "Sometimes it is difficult to separate fantasy from reality when one wakes suddenly from what appears to be a realistic vision. Now, is there something else you require before returning to bed? A drink, perhaps?"

"No, thank you," Dick mumbled. "Sorry to have bothered you."

"Tis no bother, young sir," Alfred told him kindly. "Would you like me to tuck you back into bed?"

Dick shook his head. "That's okay. I can do it myself," he said.

He felt the butler's eyes on him all the way up the stairs. Dick frowned. Something wasn't right, but it was too late for him to determine what it was. Maybe things would look different in the morning. That's what his father had used to tell him; that things would always look different in the morning light.

A pang struck him in the chest and Dick rubbed his hand over his heart in an attempt to ease it. _Dad would have believed me_!

A sob caught in his throat. He missed his dad . . . and his mom. He rubbed his pajama sleeve over his eyes before any stray tears could fall, furious with himself.

 _I'm not a baby_ , he growled inside his head. _I'm not_!

Thing would look different in the morning.

* * *

"Hey, chum," Bruce greeted Dick the next morning with a smile. "How'd you sleep?"

Dick glanced up at his guardian as they met outside of his door, suspiciously. Had Alfred told him about the wolf?

"Fine, thank you," Dick lied. He had been up for several more hours waiting for the wolf to return, but it never did. He found himself wondering if the butler had been right after all and he had dreamed the whole thing.

He started to ask Bruce about his own night; curious as to where his guardian had gone to so late when the man's large hand settled onto his shoulder and stopped his progress down the hall. He turned around as Bruce squat down next to him. He looked serious, and a little thrill of fear skirted up Dick's spine. Would he be sending him away because he had been wandering the house at night, he wondered suddenly.

"I wanted to talk to you about last night," Bruce said to him.

Dick blinked. Panic flared.

He didn't want to go back to CPS! They would put him back into that place! His social worker had told him that it was only for his own protection; until Zucco could be found and arrested by the police, but it had been almost two whole months and as far as he knew, no one was any closer to finding the man who had killed his parents.

"I know you opened your window last night," Bruce's words cut through the fog of panic. "I would prefer it if you left it closed, however. It isn't safe for you to be messing with it unless there is an adult present."

Dick frowned. That wasn't what he had been expecting to hear.

"Those old casement windows haven't any safety catches to prevent them from opening too far. If you are fooling around with them, you might accidentally fall out," he was saying.

Dick tilted his head. "Fall out the window?" That wasn't likely to happen, and anyway he wasn't afraid of heights.

Bruce smiled and nodded. "Exactly. I want you to be safe while you are here. You understand?"

He wasn't being sent away, at least not right now; _that's_ what he understood. Relief flooded him, making his knees feel wobbly. He nodded vigorously; eager to please now that he was reassured he could remain here a little while longer.

Bruce's smile widened briefly and he ruffled Dick's hair. "Good boy!" He stood up suddenly. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved. Let's go downstairs and see what Alfred's rustled up for breakfast, what do you say?"

Dick nodded again; smiling in response. _Anything_! _Anything to get to stay_ , he thought.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**


	2. Chapter 2

**No Warnings . . .**

* * *

"How did you sleep, Master Richard?" Alfred asked this as he set a plate with a large waffle in front of Dick and a glass of milk.

The butler had made a smiley face on the top of it with strawberries and whipped cream. Dick smiled in return, glancing up at the elder man. Alfred winked at him before returning to the stove to get Bruce's breakfast.

"I slept okay, thank you," Dick replied picking up his fork.

He paused to watch Bruce shake out his linen napkin and set it across his lap. Dick set his fork down and hurriedly imitated his guardian's action, earning himself another wink and a nod from Bruce this time. He picked his fork back up and started to eat. Alfred's waffles were always really good.

"No more dreams, then?" Alfred set a bowl of oatmeal and a plate of scrambled egg whites and turkey bacon in front of Bruce.

"Wait! Where is my waffle," Bruce interrupted, eyeing the oatmeal with a jaundiced expression.

"Cholesterol, sir," was Alfred's only reply.

"It was still within normal range," Bruce complained.

"Indeed, and I plan to see that it remains so," Alfred said unapologetically as he returned to the table with a small plate of regular bacon for Dick.

Bruce sighed and dug into his eggs unhappily. He looked up at the boy, curiously. "Were you dreaming last night?"

Dick glanced back at where Alfred was cleaning up the countertop before shaking his head. "No sir," he replied, stubbornly. "It wasn't a dream."

Alfred explained. "Master Dick came downstairs in search of you last night around eleven thirty. I explained that you had been called away," he added quickly. "Apparently, the young sir believed he had seen a large dog on the property and wished to inform you of it."

Bruce frowned. "A large dog? Where did you see it, Dick?"

"It was a _wolf_ ," Dick corrected him. "It was out near the woods beyond the maze."

"That's a pretty substantial distance to be able to identify anything with any accuracy, especially at night," he commented.

"The moon was out," Dick said quickly. "And I have really good eyesight. Even Dr. Leslie said so."

"I remember," Bruce nodded. "But Gotham City is a large metropolitan area. It is surrounded by many other cities and towns that a wolf would have to traverse in order to get here. It seems unlikely to have made it so far without being spotted by someone and the animal removed to more suitable environment."

Dick dropped his gaze; setting down his fork and pushing his plate away. "So, you don't believe me either."

Bruce scooted the plate back in front of the boy. "I didn't say that, chum. I was merely stating that wolves have long been driven out of the area by urban sprawl. It would no longer be safe for a wild wolf to be so close to cities and highways that make up Gotham and her neighbors. Perhaps it was a large dog, then, that you thought you saw?"

"I didn't _think_ I saw it; I did see it." Dick complained. He didn't pick up his fork.

"In that case, I would prefer it if you could remain in the house today until we can confirm this." Bruce told him.

"B-But why?"

"If the animal is wild, it could be dangerous," Bruce explained. "I don't want to risk you running into it outside and getting bit."

Dick slumped back into his chair. Now he was being punished? He had only been trying to help.

"I doubt any wild animal would risk coming so close to the house," Alfred injected. "Perhaps if Master Richard promised to stay near the house and not wander off, it would be all right for him to go outside."

"Hm," Bruce murmured noncommittedly into his coffee.

"Surely such an animal, if it wasn't a dream, would merely be passing through," Alfred continued. "The likelihood that it would remain on the grounds would be slender, at best."

"Perhaps," Bruce wiped his mouth. He looked at his unhappy ward. "All right, then. You can go outside, but no wandering off. Stay close to the house until we know one way or the other."

Dick sat back up. "How will you know? Will you go out looking for it?"

Bruce smiled. "I have my ways, chum. Now you need to finish your breakfast. At least you don't have to worry about having normal, but still elevated, cholesterol."

"I heard that," Alfred remarked.

"Good," Bruce said louder. "Then maybe I can have real bacon with my oatmeal and egg whites next time."

"Are you taking the newspaper with you," Alfred asked, choosing to ignore the sarcasm.

"My secretary will have one available to me," Bruce said as he stood. "You have a good day, Dickiebird. I'll see you at dinner."

Bruce walked out of the kitchen. Dick bit his lip and glanced over to where Alfred was busy cleaning up Bruce's dishes. He grabbed his two slices of bacon and ran after his guardian.

"Bruce!"

Bruce was pulling on his overcoat next to the front door. He turned at to face the boy.

"What's the matter, Dick," he asked. He looked surprised when the child thrust his bacon at him. "What's this?"

"Your cholesterol," Dick said as way of explanation. "It's still normal,"

Bruce looked over his head in the direction of the kitchen, but no Alfred was in pursuit. He grinned suddenly and took one of the proffered slices.

"Thanks, chum," he ruffled the boy's hair. "You eat the other one."

Dick smiled shyly back at him. "Thank you."

"For what?" Bruce asked around a bite of the delicious pork bacon.

"Believing me," Dick said.

"You saw _something_ , kiddo," Bruce said as he picked up his keys and briefcase. "It can't hurt to check it out. In the meantime," he reminded him, "stay close to the house, and don't go out after dark. Oh, and keep your windows closed." He tapped Dick on the nose with a finger. "It's far too cold out now to be opening them up."

Dick blinked at that as Bruce closed the door behind him. His face scrunched up in thought at the reminder.

How _did_ Bruce know that he had opened the window last night?

* * *

Dick glanced back at the house from where he stood near the entrance of the maze. He didn't see Alfred looking out any of the windows, but the older man was sneaky. Dick still didn't know how he kept popping up out of Bruce's study or disappearing within it without Dick seeing him.

It was a mystery, and Dick liked mysteries. This current mystery certainly had him in its grip.

Alfred obviously continued to believe Dick had been dreaming last night, otherwise the man wouldn't have argued in favor of him being allowed outside during the day. Of this, Dick was sure. If Alfred had thought for one second that the boy had actually seen a strange dog, let alone a wild animal like a wolf, so close to the house, Dick was positive he would even now be staring at the maze from his bedroom window instead of quickly making his way around it.

Dick hadn't had a chance to explore the hedgerow maze yet, but it was definitely on his list of things to do. In fact, had he not seen the wolf last night, Dick would probably even now be slipping inside for an afternoon of adventure. Instead, he chose to work his way around the outside of its perimeter in an effort to find proof of his late night visitor.

Each side of the maze had an exit, he discovered. Dick stood near the entrance at the far side of the maze nearest the tree line where he remembered seeing the wolf. He remembered his promise to Bruce and, although Dick was sure the man wouldn't agree that where he stood now could be considered 'close' to the house, he decided not to go more than a few yards beyond the first few trees. He could still see the maze and the upper levels of the manor beyond. Dick could even pick out his bedroom window from here.

This could be considered 'close' in the interpretation that Dick chose to follow.

He didn't want to upset Alfred by being out of sight for too long, so he set to work looking at the ground for animal tracks. Heavy leaves and bushes made it a little difficult, but Dick was sure that if the wolf had been here, he would have left paw prints behind. The ground had been damp last night from the rain that always seemed to be falling on Gotham.

Dick looked up at the sky through the bare branches. Dark clouds were closing in even now. He had to hurry. If it started raining again, Dick was sure that any tracks would be washed away and then there would be no proof left at all.

Now he wished he had asked the butler to accompany him. What good would his proof be if the rain washed it all away before either Alfred or Bruce could see it for themselves? But Dick had felt unsure of himself even if he was positive that he was right. He wanted to have already found the proof before he dragged anyone out here.

The wind was picking up and ruffling his hair as it blew the ominous clouds overhead. The weather was going to make all of his plans obsolete at this rate. He pushed away the dead, damp leaves with his hand; ignoring the dirt in favor of speed.

Dick felt the first drop of rain just as he found it.

The paw print definitely looked canine, he thought, but it was enormous compared to the prints left behind by the poodles used in the dancing dogs act at the circus. Dick spread his fingers out and laid his hand on top of the track. His breath caught when he saw that the size was easily as large as his own hand.

 _This_ wolf was _much_ bigger than the ones he had seen at the zoo.

The hair lifted on the back of his neck, and Dick suddenly felt like he was being watched. He climbed to his feet swiftly and looked around him nervously for any telltale shadows. He saw a lot of shadows, especially now that the dark clouds had rolled in and completely obliterated the sun, but none that appeared to be in the shape of a wolf.

Dick decided that it was probably better if he hurried back to the house as yet another drop of rain splattered on his nose. He told himself that he didn't want to get soaked out here. He had already had to visit the lady doctor's office every week since he had come to live here. Dick didn't want to have to go back another time because he had gotten sick.

He hurried back into the open and followed the maze back around; keeping close to the hedge in an effort to help shelter him from the rain. It was falling a little faster now. As he turned the corner and left the area where he had found the paw print, Dick's feeling of foreboding eased. He looked behind him, and knew that, this time, nothing was looking back. He pulled up his hood and began running.

He entered the house the same way he had exited it; through Bruce's study.

Dick peered through the glass door first to make sure Alfred wasn't there. He took off his muddy shoes and crept inside in his socked feet, closing and then locking the door behind him. He was wet, but not soaked through yet. He wasn't dripping and leaving a trial behind him anyway.

It was funny, but he had never worried much about tracking a little mud and grass into his parents' trailer before. In the circus, with all the sawdust and hay and animals around, it was impossible to not track in something. Even then, he never remembered the trailer being messy. His mom had always been quick and diligent to sweep out any debris that Dick or his father had tracked in. It was only since he'd come to the manor that Dick had become aware of what was on his feet every time he entered the house.

He cracked the door to the hallway and peeked around.

The coast was clear. He listened, but heard no sounds of footsteps or voices. He slid out of the room and closed the door; turning the knob as he did so that it wouldn't make a clicking noise as it latched. The halls, with its marble floors, carried sound really well.

He darted toward the gymnasium. He could wash his shoes off in the locker room and change into his work-out clothes. Alfred would think his hair was damp from sweat and his cheeks were red from exertion rather than from the cold. As long as the man didn't actually touch him, Dick was golden.

* * *

Almost as soon as Dick had come inside, the heavens had opened up and the rain came down in sheets. It rained all afternoon and into the early evening. At least the wind was finally blowing some of the clouds away. He could see the moon shining just at the tops of the tree line.

He sighed. Any tracks would have been washed away in this deluge. Bruce had returned too late to be able to walk out to the place where Dick had seen the wolf even had the rain stopped in time. The sun went down too early this time of year.

A knock on his door announced the arrival of his guardian. Dick moved from the window to the bed as Bruce entered the room.

"Are you ready for bed," Bruce asked.

"Yes sir," Dick climbed onto the bed.

"Teeth brushed? Face washed," he asked next, and Dick nodded in the affirmative.

"Good boy," Bruce pulled the covers up and made a show of tucking the child in snugly. "Now, do you want to tell me why you are so glum tonight?"

Dick hesitated in telling him. He hadn't been allowed to go out as far as he did. He had been told to stay close to the house and instead he had wandered off in search of a wild animal. It wasn't something he was prepared to admit. So, Dick told him the other thing that was bothering him.

"I had hoped we could walk out to the place I had seen the wolf last night before it got dark," he began.

"But I came too late," Bruce finished the sentence for him. "And it rained," he added. "No tracks."

Bruce did understand.

"It's okay, Dick," he said to the boy. "I believe you saw something."

 _A wolf_ , Dick thought, although he remained silent.

"Look, tomorrow's Friday," Bruce told him. "Perhaps I can arrange to come home a little early. We can take time to look for fresh tracks then."

Dick allowed the edges of his mouth to turn up into a half-hearted smile.

"That's my boy," Bruce encouraged. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Bruce," Dick murmured as he closed his eyes.

Once Bruce had turned out the light and closed the door, Dick sat up. It was early yet; only eight o'clock. The clouds were finally parting, and there was a possibility that the wolf hadn't moved on.

He climbed off of his bed and back onto the window seat; determined to remain vigilant throughout the night, just in case his visitor came back.

* * *

Dick jerked himself awake with a groan. He had fallen asleep on the window seat, and was now in an awkward position . . . And he was cold; the window he was leaning against leeching the warmth from his body through his pajamas.

 _What time is it_? Dick looked at the clock by his bed; midnight.

He sat up and stretched carefully; working out the kinks the way his dad had shown him. He then looked out the window, not really expecting to see anything. But the moon was out and even brighter than the night before. All the clouds had blown away and the sky was the clearest Dick had ever seen since coming to Gotham City. The glow of the city lights weren't so bad from the back side of the house. He could see a few stars twinkling overhead.

His gaze dropped to the area he had first seen the wolf. To his utter surprise, the beast was already there; standing in the exact same location the previous night. Gasping, Dick leapt to his feet; his hands fumbling with the latch in his excitement. The casement panel swung outward and Dick stepped out onto the ledge without a thought to Bruce's warnings.

The cold air made him shiver, but the ledge had dried somewhat. The dampness that soaked through his socks was no deterrent when the object of his fascination was right there. His movements seemed to draw the creature's attention and it stared at him across the distance. Dick licked his lips and waved idiotically. It wasn't like the wolf would wave back, but Dick felt the need to acknowledge that he, too, had seen the other.

The wolf raised its head and was sniffing the air. Did it think it could smell him from way over there? It stayed there for a long while; unmoving, until suddenly its head turned and it darted off after something. It disappeared into the woods so quickly it was like magic.

 _Wow_ . . .

The shiver caught Dick by surprise; its violence startling him. Abruptly, he was freezing. Funny that he didn't feel the cold hardly at all while he had been so engrossed by the wolf, but now he was shaking like a leaf and his feet felt a little numb through the socks. Lucky, he was holding onto the window with one hand when that shiver had overtaken him, or he might have been rattled right off the ledge. Certain the wolf was gone for the night, Dick moved back into the room and closed the window; latching it securely.

He grabbed his robe and ran to the door. It was dark in the hallway, but that didn't deter him. Dick stopped at the door to the room next to his. He knocked on the door and waited. When no one answered, Dick knocked again harder. Surely Bruce wasn't that heavy of a sleeper! But then again, the tattooed man from Haley's Circus could sleep like the dead, too. Another shiver shook the boy, this time in delight as a wave of delicious fear swept through him.

His mother thought him to be too morbid, but some of the older kids with the circus were the same way. They liked drawing moustaches on the faces in some of Eddie's tattoos with black magic markers. The man never woke up while they were drawing on him; although when he did wake after the fact, he would inevitably yell at all the kids. But nothing ever came of it. Eddie was a real swell guy.

When there was still no answer, Dick pressed his ear to the door. He couldn't hear anything through the heavy wooden panel. He turned the knob slowly and eased the door open a crack. It wasn't as dark in there as it was in the hallway, but it was quiet. Too quiet. Dick pushed the door open a little more.

The moon shone through the window and across the floor. He could see well enough to note that the bed hadn't been slept in. He pulled the door shut and turned around. It was after midnight. Where was his guardian now?

 _The study_!

Dick bolted down the hallway, but didn't bother with the stairs in his hurry. He used the bannister to slide down to the foyer, exiting at the bottom with a flip. His socked feet nearly flew out from under him, but the Grayson grace didn't desert him. Pinwheeling his arms and a couple of staggered steps enabled him to keep his feet and resume his quest.

There was a light coming from beneath the door. Dick slid into the door with a thump and began pounding on it in his eagerness to impart his news.

"Bruce! Bruce," he called. "Hurry! Come quick! I saw it again!"

He was quivering with excitement; bouncing on his toes. When Bruce didn't emerge, Dick knocked again, this time with a little more composure than before. Maybe he didn't want to reward Dick's rudeness. But his excitement dwindled after a little while when no Bruce was forthcoming.

Dick frowned. He glanced down the hall in either direction. The silence was total.

Was he alone in the manor? Surely both Bruce and Alfred wouldn't have left him all alone in this big, old house at night! Had there been an emergency? Maybe they only stepped out for a moment thinking Dick was sleeping in his bed.

Curious, Dick opened the door to the study and stepped just inside the threshold. It was empty. Not even coffee sat on the desk blotter tonight. Dick moved over to the French door that opened to the patio. Locked.

He bit his lip as his eyes searched the room once again for any other exits, but there were none. He walked the perimeter slowly. French door, fireplace, window, wainscoting, clock, chair and a floor lamp, bookcase, bookcase, door to the hallway. The last wall contained a painting over the credenza which set behind Bruce's desk and a couple of potted palms in either corner.

Dick moved back to the hallway. He wandered down to the gymnasium, but it was dark as well. He walked back to the kitchen. There was a light on over the sink, but it was just as deserted as every place else he had been.

He wandered down a separate hallway. He vaguely remembered being shown the way to Alfred's room, in case he needed the older man during the night. He hadn't been paying much attention at the time, but he was fairly certain that this was where it was located. There were four doors here, but none with any signs of life within them. Just to be sure, Dick knocked on each of them and then peeked inside.

Only one shown signs of someone living within it. It was neat as a pin, and in the moonlight he could make out a book on the bedside table next to a pair of reading glasses and a pair of slippers neatly placed near the foot of the bed. This, Dick decided, must be Alfred's room. He closed the door.

 _Where was everyone_?

Dick walked back to his bedroom at a more sedate pace. His expression of one deep in thought. It wasn't until he came back to the foyer that the stillness became unsettling. Dick was used to being surrounded by people. At the detention center, however, he had craved his solitude. His first weeks here, Dick had still been so engrossed in his losses that he didn't care who, if anyone, was around. But now . . .

Now, it felt uncomfortable. He didn't like it.

He climbed the steps to the second level slowly at first, but then with increasing speed until he was running. His feet made muted thuds as he barreled down the carpeted hall towards his room. The shadows in the corners seemed darker than before and appeared to reach for him as he passed.

He ran to his bed; diving into the warmth and safety of his blankets.

As he caught his breath, Dick looked around his room. The moonlight and the nightlight kept the shadows at bay here. He sat up, and huffed in disgust. He had never been afraid of the dark. He had never been afraid of being alone before either, but then again, he had never truly been alone before now.

He willed his heart to slow and controlled his breathing until he felt calm again. Sliding out from under his covers, Dick padded once more to the window seat. He searched the trees beyond the maze for any sign of the wolf. After a while, the shadows moved and the animal appeared once more. It seemed to pause and stare right directly at him. Perhaps it was looking for him now that it was aware of Dick's presence. Then it was gone again from one second to the next.

Oddly enough, Dick felt relieved. He wasn't alone anymore. The wolf was out there. Strangely comforted, Dick fell back to sleep, content. He knew he hadn't dreamed the creature. Paw prints or not, he had seen the wolf a second, and now even a third time. He might not be able to convince anyone else, but _he_ knew he had been telling the truth.

The wolf existed, and Dick wasn't alone. And for that night, those two things were all that really mattered to him.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

**There is a brief POV change in the middle of this where I switch to Bruce, but otherwise, the rest of the chapter (like 99% of the story) is all in Dick's POV.**

 **No Warnings . . .**

* * *

The next day dawned, dark and dreary, as new clouds moved in. It was colder today, Dick determined, looking at the frost on the windows, but not enough for snow. There is a knock on the door. Dick sat up as Bruce walked in, already dressed for work.

 _How late is it_? Dick gaped at the clock. _Seven o'clock in the morning_?

"Good morning, chum," Bruce's deep voice rumbled. "Are you not getting up this morning?"

"I must have overslept," Dick admitted, sheepishly. He had always been an early riser, but the past couple of nights he had been staying up too late.

"Hm," Bruce hummed noncommittedly. He pulled the upholstered chair close to the bed. "Have you not been sleeping well?"

Although the sentence was posed as a question, it was said like a statement. Dick swallowed. Did Bruce somehow know Dick was roaming the house last night?

"I woke up around midnight," Dick told him. "I'm sorry."

Bruce leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him. "You don't need to be sorry for not being able to sleep, Dick. However, that being said, you should probably be sorry that you disobeyed me last night and opened your window again after I specifically told you not to."

Fear slithered up Dick's spine. _How did he know_? And then a worst thought followed on the heels of that one. _Is he going to send me away_?

"Why did you open your window last night?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," Dick cried out; scooting back into his bed and pulling the covers up to his chin. "I-I forgot!"

"You forgot?" Bruce stared at the child, disbelievingly.

"I-I saw the wolf again," Dick stammered quickly. "I wanted to see it better, so I opened the window. I forgot what you said. I-I just wanted to see the wolf better! I'm sorry! I won't do it again. I promise!"

Bruce frowned, but didn't say anything for a moment.

"The dog came back, you said?" Bruce looked toward Dick's window.

Dick nodded his head. "I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't find you . . . Or Alfred."

Bruce's gaze returned to Dick's when he said this. "You were looking for me last night," he asked.

Dick nodded; the movement a little smaller. Was he going to get into trouble for that, too?

"I stepped out for a little walk," Bruce told him. "I'm sorry if you were frightened."

"I-I wasn't frightened," he said. _Much_.

Bruce smiled at that. "Brave boy," he praised him.

The edges of a smile appeared at that.

Suddenly, the connection was made and Dick gasped. "The wolf was back! There are bound to be paw prints! Can we go look now, please?"

Without waiting for an answer, he shoved the blankets back and was rolling out of bed and onto his feet. Dick darted over to the dresser where Alfred had put away his meager belongings. The drawer held a couple of pairs of pants that Dick had brought with him as well as three new pair that Alfred had bought him in addition to the socks. He grabbed the first pair his hand landed on.

Bruce chuckled a little at the abrupt appearance of this bundle of energy.

"Hold up, kiddo," he held up a hand as his face morphed into something regretful. "I have a meeting this morning. I don't have time . . ."

"B-But . . ." Dick glanced at the window just as a few drops of rain began to splatter against its panes. "They'll be washed away!"

* * *

Bruce stood up and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. Despite how small he was, Bruce could feel the strength within him.

"I'll try to make it home a little earlier today," Bruce told him. "I make no promises," he added quickly, "but tomorrow is the weekend. Maybe we can manage something then if the storms let up."

The disappointment was tempered by the promise of the weekend. Dick nodded.

"I need to be going now," Bruce said. "I'm sorry we didn't get to have breakfast together today, but the meeting starts in . . ." he glanced at his watch, "forty minutes! Good Lord! I need to get going; I'm going to be late!"

Dick suddenly launched himself at Bruce's waist; hugging the man for all he was worth.

Bruce's first inclination was to pry the boy away and dash for the car, but he could feel a quiet desperation behind the boy's grip. Bruce loosened the child's hold and kneeled down in front of him. Dick hesitated only a second before his arms wound their way around the man's neck.

Bruce carefully slid his own arms around the child, drawing him close and patting him awkwardly on the back. He really wasn't very good at this.

"It's going to be all right, chum," Bruce murmured in Dick's ear. "I promise you that."

Dick's arms tightened a little bit more, if that were possible, and then the boy pulled away.

"Thank you," Dick said quietly; running his pajama sleeve across his nose.

Bruce winced a little internally. He hoped he didn't have a souvenir left behind because he didn't have time to change. He ruffled the boy's hair; oddly, the action brought a bit of order to the unruly locks that had, until this point, been sticking out in all directions.

He stood up. "You're welcome," he said, turning towards the door. "I know it is raining now, but should it let up later, I don't want you going outside today, okay?"

* * *

Dick followed him out into the hallway.

"Why not," Dick asked him.

"I need to look into this dog you are seeing. I don't like the idea of a stray animal being on the property. It could be sick," Bruce told him. "I don't want to risk you getting hurt."

Dick watched him pause at the head of the stairs. Bruce looked back at him.

"Understood?"

Dick nodded vigorously.

"Good! I'll hold you to that." And then he was gone.

Dick ran to the top of the stairs, but was only in time to see the door shut behind Bruce as the man hurried to his car and his meeting.

Dick walked back into his room and glanced at his window.

 _How did Bruce know his window had been open again_? _Had he been in the garden last night and seen him_? _Had Bruce been looking for the wolf last night_?

Dick finished dressing and made his way down to the kitchen. He had another mystery to ponder.

* * *

Bruce came home early that night, but the rain persisted on and off throughout the day; not ending until after dark. After Bruce had tucked Dick in bed for the night, with an unsubtle reminder to keep his window closed, he left for his study.

Dick slithered out of bed and padded to the door. He was thankful that the doors were silent; that there was no telltale squeak to give him away when he opened it. He peeked into the hall in time to see Bruce's shadow on the wall as he moved down the stairs. Dick closed the door behind him and followed. He hadn't memorized where the squeaky steps were yet, so the boy avoided them altogether by using the bannister again.

He flipped to the floor, this time without his socks to hinder his landing. Barefoot, he slipped along silently. He looked around the corner just as Bruce disappeared into his study; the door closing with a tiny 'snick'. Dick darted forward; stopping beside it and pressed his ear to the panel.

There was a sound . . . a kind of rumble. It was almost too soft to hear, but Dick was listening hard. And then . . . there was nothing. Silence.

Biting his lip, Dick gathered his courage and knocked.

He wasn't completely surprised this time when no one answered. Without waiting any longer, Dick carefully turned the knob and opened the door a crack.

He couldn't see anyone. He pushed the door open a little further and stuck his head in. The room was empty!

Again?!

Frowning, Dick entered; closing the door behind him. He ran to the French door to the patio. It also was still locked. He turned and surveyed the room again. There really wasn't any place for a grown man to hide in here which then begged the question as to why Bruce might think that he would need to.

Dick looked at the desk. It was the heaviest structure in the room; the only thing actually capable of hiding something or someone. The public side of the desk was solid. Someone standing or sitting there wouldn't be able to see beneath the desk to the space designated for the occupant's legs.

Dick walked around it; pulling the leather chair back enough that he could see into the leg space beneath it. It was roomy, but not really enough for a man of Bruce's size to fit comfortably.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. Certain he would be in trouble should he be found snooping in Bruce's study, Dick scrambled under the desk; pulling the chair back into place. What if Bruce was coming back from wherever he had gone? If he sat down at the desk, he would discover Dick there!

Dick held his breath as he heard the door to the hallway open and shut. There was the rattle of porcelain against silver; a sound that Dick had come to recognize very well since he had begun living here. The sound of a tea service.

 _Alfred_.

The footsteps didn't halt at the desk, however. The butler didn't set the platter down. He heard the tiniest of clicks and then that rumble again; slightly louder since there wasn't a heavy door muffling the sound. And then . . .

Silence.

Again!

Was Alfred still there? Did he realize that Dick was hiding beneath the desk? Was the butler waiting until the boy showed himself? After several minutes, he couldn't take it anymore. His hands shaking, Dick pushed the chair back and climbed out from under the desk; prepared for startled exclamations and angry demands; ready for rough hands to grab him and drag him out. Dick was terrified; certain that he was about to be tossed out of the manor any second. That he would be returned to that awful place by day's end.

Dick stood up on wobbly legs, gathering his courage. He turned around; an apology on his lips, only to be met with . . . an empty room?

 _Empty_?

Dick ran to the door and looked into the hallway; forgetting whatever potential trouble he could be in if he were caught there, but there was no one there either. He stepped out; confused.

 _Where did they both go_?

Dick burst through the door to the kitchen, but it, too, was empty. There was a teapot on the stove. Dick walked over to it. Although he couldn't quite reach it, just holding his hand up, he could feel the heat still emanating from it.

"Alfred?"

He didn't know why he called out to the man. The house had the same feeling as it had the night before. Everyone was gone from it except him. Everyone had walked into the study and just . . . disappeared. Everyone, except for Dick.

Disturbed and feeling a little scared, Dick made his way back to his room. He didn't immediately climb back into bed, however. Instead, he moved to the window. Had the creature moved on? He looked at the clock. Nine p.m. was a little bit early for the wolf to make an appearance. Just before he turned away, however, movement caught his eye. A shadow emerged from the darkness beyond the maze. His breath caught. _There_!

 _The wolf_!

The beast paused and turned its head in the direction of the house. Although Dick didn't open the window this time, he still waved at the creature. Its ears perked and its head tilted. It had seen him! It hesitated a minute as it contemplated the boy in the window before turning toward the woods. And then it was gone.

A smile edged Dick's lips. He no longer felt so alone. Why the wolf's presence comforted him, he didn't know, but it did.

Dick climbed back up into his bed; pulling the covers up to his chin. As he lay in bed, he ruminated on the mysterious disappearances of his guardian and the butler. Rolling over onto his side, he was sure he wouldn't be getting any sleep on this strange night.

* * *

Their voices woke him.

Dick blinked and glanced blearily at the clock beside his bed. _Three-thirty in the morning_? Abruptly, the memories of the previous evening slammed into him.

 _They came back_!

Dick practically fell out of bed and scrambled to the door. He pressed his ear to the wood to better hear what the muffled voices were saying. The solid oak prevented him from actually making out the words, so he eased the door open, just a crack, and peered out.

Bruce's arm was flung around Alfred's shoulders as the butler helped the man up the hall to the master bedroom. Bruce was shirtless, and his broad chest and one shoulder were bandaged up. Dick could see, even from this distance, the angry, red scratches on his arms and his back as the two passed by his room.

"What do you expect, sir; running around all night getting into fights with Catwoman?" Alfred was scolding the younger man.

Bruce, however, was almost jovial despite his obvious pain. "Ah, yes, but what a little wildcat she is, Alfred!"

The butler sniffed haughtily and reminded him. "Just remember, Master Bruce; cats enjoy playing with their food before they devour it."

Bruce chuckled as the two men disappeared behind the door to his bedroom.

Dick returned to his bed; thinking hard about all that he had just heard. _What was a Catwoman_ , _and why would Bruce be fighting with her_? Dogs liked to fight with cats, he knew. The wolf abruptly sprang to his mind. A wolf was a dog . . .

Catwoman. Did that mean there could be a dogman out there? Or . . . or maybe a _wolf_ man? Dick's eyes widened in shock.

Suddenly, everything made perfect sense. Well, not _perfect_ sense . . . Dick still didn't know how Bruce and Alfred kept disappearing and reappearing out of the study, but it _did_ explain how Bruce knew he had opened the window on the nights when Dick had spotted the wolf.

 _Bruce_ _ **was**_ _the wolf_! Or rather, Bruce was a _**werewolf**_!

Dick bit his lip; worried. Didn't werewolves _eat_ people? Would Bruce eat _him_ if he learned that Dick discovered his secret? Dick frowned as he considered this. Bruce had had weeks to eat him and yet he hadn't. Maybe Alfred didn't allow him to werewolf inside the house? But then Dick remembered the afternoons they had spent down by the lake.

Bruce had had more than enough time to have eaten Dick if he had really wanted to, but all they had done was skip rocks together. Bruce had even allowed Dick to hug him without biting him. In fact, Bruce had actually hugged him back!

Did that mean that maybe Bruce was a _nice_ werewolf? All the werewolves Dick remembered in his father's stories had been mean.

Maybe Bruce only ate cats?

The sky was beginning to lighten when Dick finally fell back into an uneasy sleep, and soon the boy began to dream.

* * *

 _Dick and Bruce were down by the lake._

 _They were skipping rocks and having a good time. Dick had just skipped his rock several times and turned around to celebrate with Bruce when he came face to face with the wolf from outside of his window._

 _The huge black wolf was looking at him with Bruce's blue eyes and wagging its tail. Dick smiled; petting the beast. Afterwards, the two of them sat down together beside the water and howled at the moon._

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Bruce sat down next to him. No bandages could be seen under his clothes, but Dick could see a healing scratch on his cheek still, and one again on his hand.

"Good morning, chum! How'd you sleep?" Bruce smiled at him.

"Okay," Dick told him. "I dreamed a lot, though."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Really? What did you dream about?"

Dick shrugged his shoulders. "I can't remember," he lied.

Bruce nodded. "Sometimes that is better," he murmured sagely.

"Can we go look for animal tracks today," Dick asked. He was curious to see if Bruce would let him in on his secret or not.

Bruce glanced at the window. Rain was still falling.

"I don't know, Dick," he said regretfully. "The rain isn't supposed to stop for a couple of days yet, although the forecast said that the temperatures are going to drop tomorrow and we can expect snow."

"Snow?" Dick perked up. He had never seen snow except in pictures. The circus was always ensconced in the Florida for the winter by the time the snow came to the north.

"Do you like snow," Bruce asked the boy. He had obviously noticed Dick's sudden interest.

"I don't know," Dick admitted. "I've never seen it before in real life."

Bruce grinned. "No? Well then, maybe if we're lucky, we'll get enough to make a snowman. I hear they can be fun."

Dick's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Have you made a snowman before?"

A faint blush rose up on Bruce's face. "Ah, no, although Alfred tried to talk me into it once. I wasn't interested at the time, but I wouldn't mind giving it a go with you. If you want to, that is."

Dick practically bounced in his chair. "Yes, please!"

Bruce chuckled at his enthusiasm. "All right, then. If the weather cooperates, then you and I will learn to make snowmen together."

As Dick was getting up from the table, Bruce caught him by his shoulder.

"By the way, Dick," he said, "did you happen to see the wolf last night?"

Dick nodded slowly.

Bruce smiled. "Well, thank you for remembering to not open your window. I know how much you must have wanted to."

 _It was true_ , Dick thought, marveling at the fact. How else could his guardian have possibly known whether or not Dick had opened his window unless he had been the wolf?

"You're welcome," Dick said, a little shyly.

Maybe if Bruce realized that he could trust Dick to keep his secret, he would tell him about it. Dick smiled at the thought.

 _His own werewolf guardian_! _How cool was that_?

* * *

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 **All I know is that if I were an 8 year old boy and in Dick's place, I would be thinking Bruce was a werewolf, too!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Watch for POV changes. There are a few.**

 **Warning: Language . . .**

* * *

Dick emptied his pockets into his bedside drawer. The napkin stashed there contained food from both lunch and dinner. He should probably feel guilty for fooling Alfred into believing his appetite had improved so much. The man had been making comments about Dick hitting a growth spurt.

The truth was that Dick's appetite had remained the same, but he had plans for the remnants of his meals. Everything that laid upon the napkin was everything the boy had noticed that Bruce preferred. Nearly all of it was meat.

Bruce had preferred his steak rare, and when Dick had requested the same from Alfred, both men had given him a strange look. Alfred had served him his steak well done. There was nothing else to be done for it, and Dick scooped several pieces into his pockets at every opportunity. At least no one seemed to notice that his pockets had been bulging when he had left the table to run upstairs in order to deposit half of his meal in the drawer.

He had then spent the rest of the evening smelling like steak. It didn't appear to be especially noticeable, although Alfred had suggested he take a bath, brush his teeth again, and removed his clothing to be washed before bedtime.

Bruce tucked him in bed, and stayed long enough to read him a bedtime story; one that was a far cry from the stories his father had once told. Alice in Wonderland was interesting, but had yet to have any witches or monsters in it. It wasn't long before his eyes grew heavy with fatigue. Staying up most of the previous night did a great deal in helping the boy fall to sleep quickly.

* * *

Bruce shut the book and set it down quietly. Dick had fallen to sleep surprisingly fast. He had noted the dark circles beneath the boy's eyes during the course of the day. This animal that Dick kept seeing was disturbing him enough that he wasn't getting a full night's rest.

Instead of leaving immediately, Bruce moved to the window that the boy had opened the first two nights that the dog had appeared. Dick continued to be convinced that it was a wolf, but Bruce tended to side with Alfred on this one. Wolves had been unheard of in this part of the country for the better part of a century, and the likelihood that one could have traveled so far without being spotted and the authorities called was ridiculously small.

He looked out toward the area that Dick had claimed the animal showed up each evening, but saw no movement to indicate anything was alive down there. Bruce narrowed his eyes and admitted that the boy's eyesight was indeed excellent.

After several long moments, he moved away. There were other methods to determining if there was a large animal this close to the house. Deer had often been spotted nearby. Perhaps that was what Dick had seen.

* * *

"Heading out right away, sir?" Alfred met him at the bottom of the staircase.

"In another couple of hours, Alfred," Bruce told him as the two men headed into his study. "I want to check the perimeter cameras again to see if I can find whatever it is that Dick has been seeing from his bedroom window."

"Didn't you check them last night as well?"

Bruce nodded as he adjusted the hands of the grandfather clock. "I did, but the cameras showed nothing like what Dick described. I'm wondering if we have a blind spot in the area that the cameras miss. If only this blasted rain would cease for more than a few hours, I might be able to investigate it more thoroughly."

Alfred followed him down into the Batcave. "Since when has a little rain stopped you from hunting before?"

"Never when it comes to the urban jungle that is Gotham, but I have no desire to traipse through the surrounding woods in it if I don't have to," Bruce admitted. "That is why I had a security system put into place, after all. But if he is seeing a large animal that hasn't been on the grounds previously, I have to wonder from where it had entered the property."

"You are suggesting that the wall has a breach, sir?"

Bruce sat down in front of his computer and began pulling up the security system that protected the manor. He typed in the command for the video feed and the screen split into numerous windows from which the grounds could be viewed from various angles. He was looking for the particular view of the tree line as seen from the boy's window. He had at least two cameras that faced in that general direction.

"It's a possibility that must be addressed, Alfred. Keeping Dick safe is the whole reason I brought him here, after all. So that the men who would hunt him in an effort to earn the reward money that Zucco has placed on his head wouldn't be able to reach him." Bruce turned the cameras toward the spot he wanted. "Unfortunately, making sure that the estate is secure means that we'll need to walk the entire perimeter."

"You realize that Master Richard would have likely been safe enough from Zucco's hit had he remained ensconced in the detention center," Alfred pointed out unhelpfully. "Surely the thick walls, the locked doors, and guards would have prevented anyone from reaching him. That _was_ CPS' intention in placing him there in the first place."

Bruce scoffed. "Safe from Zucco maybe, but not safe from the juvenile riffraff that roam those halls. Bringing him here accomplished both of those goals, as you well know."

"And how soon does the Batman estimate the boy will remain here at the manor, sir," Alfred asked. "Have you gotten any closer to locating the villain who murdered his family? What sort of fiend would put a hit out on a mere child?"

Bruce frowned and glanced up at his butler. "What's the matter, Alfred? Are you in a hurry to send the boy back?"

The elder man pursed his lips and sent a glare back at the one sitting. "You know that is not the reason why I am asking."

Bruce stared at the man for a moment longer; trying to determine why Alfred was insisting on knowing an unanswerable question. Batman would find him when he found him.

"No closer, damn it," he finally admitted. "It is like the bastard dropped off of the face of the earth. Although hell would welcome such a man, I would prefer it greatly if Batman could find him first in order to convince him to drop the hit. Dick will never be safe outside of these walls as long as there continues to be a price on his head."

"And when that happens, as I'm certain it must," Alfred continued, "what then, sir? Will you just allow CPS to swoop in and take the boy away? What will become of him in such a system?"

Bruce's hands paused on the keyboard, but didn't look up. "The system _is_ flawed, but it is all Gotham has at the moment." What was Alfred getting at?

"And how many does Batman meet on his nightly jaunts that come directly to the streets from this admittedly-flawed system?"

He closed his eyes a second as he blew out a tired breath. "Too many."

"I worry what will become of young Master Richard once this threat is removed and he is returned to CPS' questionable care," Alfred said quietly after a brooding silence. "Not every child manages to navigate the foster care system with success; or even with failure. I have read accounts of those who do not make it at all; those who disappear and aren't seen again."

"You speak of the runaways," Bruce remarked.

"And those whose disappearances occur through other means," the butler told him. "Nefarious means . . . It chills the blood to imagine that sweet child thrust into such a dastardly world."

Bruce suppressed his own shudder. Batman had come across at least two separate incidents in which human traffickers had capitalized on the orphaned and forgotten children of Gotham. He remembered the children he had managed to save; and those lost souls he had been too late to help haunted him still. How many had been victimized before Batman had discovered and put a stop to those criminal rings?

Bruce grimaced. Dick was such a pretty, little boy, too. Those bastards would take one look at him and . . . Gah! He slammed his hand down on the console and swung about in his chair to glare at the older man.

"What are you trying to do, Alfred? What game are you playing at here?"

But the butler's face was carefully neutral when he drop the latest bombshell on Bruce's head with his next question.

"No game, sir. Just wondering, will you will be able to let him go when the time comes? Knowing what is out there," he said softly, and then reluctantly admitting in an even quieter voice, "I'm not so sure that **_I_** shall be."

"Damn you," Bruce turned back around without answering the question.

Truth be told, it was a fear that he had been studiously ignoring over the past week; after that first real connection between them had been made. Bruce had felt it before. It had been what spurred him to find and bring Dick into his home in the first place, but now . . . Now that the boy felt it too? As he did with many emotional difficulties, Bruce shoved them into a compartment in the back of his mind to be dealt with on some amorphous day in the distant future.

"We have a problem," Bruce said, returning to the deed at hand. "Neither camera angle covers the area that Dick claims to have seen the animal. Both fall short by several feet; leaving perhaps a ten square yard area that is a fairly substantial blind spot. If there is a dog that is roaming the grounds, there is a slight, yet distinct possibility that the cameras missed it."

Alfred frowned and leaned in, studying the camera angles. "The likelihood is small. Surely one of the other cameras has picked up movement. The chances that it has come so close to the house and yet never stepped foot out of this rather small blind spot is infinitesimal."

"You don't believe him," Bruce asked.

"It is a greater possibility that Master Richard is dreaming about seeing a wolf than he has actually been seeing one in reality. Why have neither of us seen it? Surely it would have left clues to its existence that we would have discovered by now."

"The security sensors on his window tells me he's been opening it at night," Bruce pointed out. "Why would he do that if this is nothing, but a vivid dream?"

Alfred rubbed his chin. "Sleepwalking, sir?"

"Sleepwalking?"

"You sleepwalked several times in the months after your own parents' murders, sir," Alfred told him.

"I don't remember that," Bruce frowned at this news.

"I can't imagine why you would," Alfred said dryly. "You were asleep at the time, after all."

"I don't like that scenario any better, Alfred. He could get lost or hurt stumbling about this old house, not to mention the danger of him falling from his second story window. Perhaps I should install a better lock?"

" _Perhaps_ , until this mystery is solved, Batman should consider keeping close to the roost?"

"Not possible tonight. Batman has a couple of leads he needs to look into that might shed some light on where Zucco's been hiding." Bruce sighed. "In the meantime, we'll just have to keep a closer eye on the boy."

"Very good, sir," Alfred nodded his agreement. "Although I have to remind you that it alarms me whenever you speak of yourself in the third person."

Bruce turned in his chair and smiled. "No more than it does me whenever you choose to use the royal 'we' when speaking of yourself."

Alfred's lip twitched. "Touché, Master Bruce. Touché."

* * *

Dick's eyes opened and searched out his bedside clock. Midnight! He must have been tired. He rubbed his eyes and slid out of bed; heading straight for the window. Sure enough the wolf was present. It was just sitting there as if waiting for him. Dick waved to him.

He ran to his dresser and yanked out a pair of jeans and a sweater and rushed to get dressed. This was his chance to let Bruce know that Dick knew his secret, and for him to reassure his guardian that his secret was safe with him! He pulled out a jacket. It wasn't his winter coat, but Dick didn't plan to be outside for very long.

He paused long enough to scoop up the napkin that held all the tasty treats Dick had saved for Bruce tonight. Shoving the bundle into his pocket, Dick grabbed his shoes and a flashlight and ran downstairs in his socked feet. He knew that Alfred wouldn't approve of what he had planned, but Dick had no intention of returning to the detention center. If he could prove to them that he wasn't a danger to them, maybe they would let him stay with them at the manor.

He came to a halt outside of Bruce's study. The light was on beneath the door. Dick pressed his ear to the panel and listened. When no sound was heard, he held his breath and turned the handle. No sounds of alarm or exclamation . . . He looked inside.

 _Empty_. As it was more times than not.

Dick slipped in and moved to the French door. It was locked, but not with a key. He flicked the switch and went outside. His socks absorbed the cold water on the patio and was soaked in seconds. Ignoring the discomfort, Dick slid his feet into his shoes.

The moon was covered by the moving clouds; its light unreliable. He flicked on the flashlight and scanned the area beyond the light falling from the study. There was a gentle mist falling, causing Dick to shiver as he moved away from the safety of the house into the darkness beyond.

Dick found the hedgerow and followed it; darting past the deeper darkness of the maze's side entrance. He glanced behind him, but nothing appeared to be following him. He came to the corner around which he knew the wolf was waiting. He hesitated nervously, but remembered that Bruce had had multiple opportunities in which to eat him before now. He took heart in the fact that Bruce had chosen not to do so.

Gathering up his courage, Dick eased around the corner along the backside of the maze. The wolf's ears perked and it turned its head in his direction. Its eyes seemed to glow silver. He took one cautious step and then another; closing the distance. The beast was huge! Standing, it was easily as tall as Dick himself! He searched the animal for some sign of recognition.

He stopped a few yards away, and reconsidered the wisdom of running up to a werewolf. Surely, Bruce had to remember him in his wolf form. He remembered seeing Dick's window was open the other two nights when he had returned to his human form, after all.

"I-I know who you are," Dick said with a shaky voice. "I just wanted to tell you that I won't tell _anyone_ your secret. It's safe with me."

The wolf sniffed the air and stood up; licking its muzzle. It took a couple of steps towards the boy.

"A-Are you hungry? I wondered if maybe you got that way when you . . . uh, werewolfed. Do you hunt for rabbits," Dick asked nervously.

The wolf was silent. It took another couple of steps as Dick pulled out the napkin. The wolf's nose twitched in interest, and it came a little closer.

Bruce made a very big wolf, Dick thought to himself. Deciding not to push his luck, Dick tossed the pieces of meat towards the animal, and then bent and wiped his hands on the wet grass as the wolf sniffed cautiously at first, and then began eating the proffered meal. In just seconds the treat was gone and the wolf looked up at him; sniffing for more.

Dick held out his now empty hands.

"That's all I have, Bruce," he told the animal. "Are you still hungry? I can bring you some more tomorrow night, o-okay?"

The wolf stepped closer and Dick stepped back. He could see the wolf's eyes from this distance. They were, indeed, a cool blue similar to his human counterpart, but these eyes weren't warm at all. They seemed cold and alien and . . . a little wild. Dick swallowed hard, wondering how much of his Bruce was still inside of the giant beast in front of him.

Tomorrow, Bruce, okay?" Dick made the promise, so now he had to keep it. "I-I'll be back tomorrow night."

Bruce took another couple of steps as Dick continued to back away slowly. The boy bumped into the shrubs behind him, nearly stumbling. Suddenly, a rabbit darted out from between his feet; startling the boy. It shot past the wolf and Bruce turned and took off after it. The sound of it crashing through the woods after its prey was loud and just a little bit scary!

Dick turned and ran; not stopping until he reached the patio and Bruce's office. He didn't think to stop and look first. He slammed the door shut behind him and dropped the draperies; hiding him from the world outside. He was breathing hard. His limbs felt heavy and shaky, although he knew he should have more stamina than that. Dick chided himself for being afraid. This was Bruce! Bruce wouldn't hurt him!

Sliding down to the floor, Dick pulled off his muddy shoes and socks with cold, stiff fingers. He would need a heavier coat tomorrow night, he thought. He would also need more food. Despite eating a large meal earlier, Bruce had seemed very hungry to Dick. The transformation must use a lot of energy, he determined.

Standing back up, he stared in dismay at the muddy footprints he had tracked into the room. Dick scrubbed at them with his hand, but that did little for making them disappear. Glancing around him, Dick spied a trashcan just a couple of feet away. He pulled it over and sat it on top of the worst of the muddy prints.

He was still trembling as he climbed the stairs to his room, but at the same time, Dick felt elated. He stripped off his clothing and stuffed it into the back of his closet with his muddy tennis shoes. Even his feet were dirty where the mud had seeped through fabric of his shoes and socks, although Dick was too tired and cold to notice by this time. He climbed back into his pajamas and crawled back into bed.

He was asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Alfred had searched the house for an intruder, and had been alarmed when discovering the boy missing from his bed. He paused only to send an emergency signal to Batman that told the younger man he was needed at home immediately before taking a flashlight and his shotgun and moving out into the gardens to search for the boy. There was no indication of a break-in, however. The French door had been unlocked from the inside, leading the older man to believe the child had gone out on his own.

After an hour with no sign of the young master, however, he returned to the house for reinforcements. Master Bruce had surely returned from Newtown by now. Alfred noticed immediately that the draperies had been pulled, although the door remained unlocked. As he pushed through the heavy material, Alfred kicked over Master Bruce's trashcan and discovered two muddy footprints on the Aubusson carpet.

* * *

The quiet rumble of the clock was the only warning before Bruce burst through into the study.

"Alfred! What happened? Why didn't you answer me when I called the house phone," Bruce exclaimed.

Alfred stood up and faced the younger man. "Apologies, Master Bruce! I had been under the false impression that an intruder had entered the house and taken the child from his bed. Time was of the essence," he said, propping the firearm against the wall and turning off the flashlight. He set it on the edge of the desk.

"I don't understand," Bruce barked. His voice was harsh still from fear. "Where is Dick?"

"If I don't miss my guess, I would say he is back upstairs, tucked safety in his bed once more," Alfred told him.

Bruce was frowning at the shotgun, but said nothing. It was the only firearm allowed in the house and was kept in Alfred's room. Despite his discomfort, Bruce had always kept his own council where it was concerned.

"What happened?"

"I suspect the lad just went for a midnight stroll in the gardens," Alfred explained. "I am holding to my theory that the boy has been sleepwalking."

"We best check that theory for holes," Bruce snapped, already heading into the hallway and towards Dick's room.

They both let out breaths at the sight of the sleeping child that they hadn't realized that they had been holding. The two men entered the room and approached the bed. Bruce set his hand on the boy's forehead and glanced at his butler.

"He's as cold as ice," Bruce whispered.

He lifted the edges of the blankets away carefully, not wanting to wake the boy. Sure enough, Dick's feet were filthy. Alfred made a face at the dirty sheets, but said nothing.

"His feet are freezing as well," Bruce confirmed.

Although there was the question as to how the boy kept his pajamas so clean. They were already dry as well. Bruce frowned. Something was wrong with the picture, but he couldn't place it at the moment. It would be something that would keep him up for the rest of the night, he was sure.

"Well, if he isn't wet, there is no sense in waking him up," Alfred murmured. "I'll heat up a blanket and add it to the bundle on his bed. He'll warm up in no time now, I'm certain. But this is an activity that will need to be addressed. Serious harm could have come to the lad from this. Had he awoken outside in the dark, he might have been disoriented enough to become lost. He could have easily contracted hypothermia in this weather."

"Agreed, Alfred," Bruce concurred. "It would appear that Batman's wings have been clipped temporarily. I'll need to stay close to home until this is remedied unless there comes a dire emergency."

"Very good, sir," Alfred led the way out of the room. "We can deal with this in the morning, however," he said as he headed toward the linen closet.

Bruce took one last look at the child sleeping peacefully in the bed before closing the door quietly.

His heart was only now returning to its normal rhythm. He hadn't felt fear like that since his parents had died; recalling the terror that gripped him during his race back to the Batcave. The worry that Dick was quickly embedding himself into Bruce's life and . . . his heart . . . was moot. It apparently had already happened.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: Some Language . . .**

* * *

Temperatures were hovering at around forty-two degrees. No snow yet. The yard looked like a bog in the early Sunday morning light. The rain was still falling, a constant steady beat with no end in sight. Alfred had dug out Bruce's galoshes and his heavy raincoat. This Sunday did not promise to be relaxing, and Bruce wasn't looking forward to sloshing his way across the grounds.

There was no promise that he would find anything. It could all be a waste of time. The constant fall of rain could preserve tracks in the mud or wash them away.

When Dick came down to breakfast, he looked better rested than he had for the last couple of days. Whatever had frightened him apparently hadn't kept him awake. Bruce watched him dig into his plate with a good appetite. It was satisfying to see the weight that the boy had lost over the first couple of months after his parents' murder slowly returning. His gently-rounded cheeks, finally beginning to plump out a bit, reminded Bruce of the boy's youth.

"How'd you sleep," Bruce asked him.

"Good," Dick answered as he picked up his milk. "You look tired."

"You mean 'well', Master Richard, not 'good'," Alfred corrected gently as he refilled Bruce's coffee cup.

Dick rolled his eyes as he drank his milk, and Bruce had to hide his amusement behind a quick sip of coffee; burning his mouth a little in the process.

Despite coming home early from patrol, Bruce hadn't slept more than a few hours.

They had watched the security video last night, and knew that the boy had appeared to deliberately sneak out of the house and disappear into the blind spot Bruce had discovered earlier. What had happened there was still a mystery.

He had been gone for nearly fifteen minutes before he had reappeared apparently in a panic. Dick had run all the way back to the study, although Bruce could find no evidence of anything chasing him. He had been wearing clothing and a light jacket rather than pajamas. Bruce didn't know much about sleepwalking, but could one completely dress themselves and use a flashlight or was Dick actually awake and aware when he had gone out?

"Dick?" Bruce waited until the child finished drinking and he had his full attention. The milk moustache was distracting, and Bruce absentmindedly reached out and wiped the boy's mouth with his thumb. "Did you go out into the garden last night?"

Instead of guilt appearing on the boy's face, Dick gave him a funny look. _Confusion_? Bruce still didn't know enough about the child to be able to read his facial expressions with complete accuracy. Dick had little in common with the run-of-the-mill street thug.

"Don't you remember?" Dick answered with a question of his own.

 _What_? "Ah, it must have slipped my mind, chum," he said. "Why don't you remind me?"

"I was with _you_ ," Dick declared happily.

Bruce blinked. "I meant after that," he clarified; the time _after_ he had read the child a bedtime story.

"I went to sleep," Dick said simply; hopping down from his chair. He paused. "Oh, I'm sorry. May I be excused?"

Bruce and Alfred exchanged a confused glance. Distracted, Bruce waved the boy away, and Dick scampered off in the direction of the gymnasium; eager to start his day on the mats.

"Sleepwalking . . ." Bruce reconsidered this, looking at the older man. "Watching that video, I could have sworn that everything Dick did had been intentional, but you heard him. He honestly believes he was with me last night."

"We definitely will need to keep a closer eye on him tonight," Alfred said as he picked up Dick's breakfast dishes.

"I don't want to make him feel like a prisoner or think that we don't trust him, but if he's truly doing these things in his sleep, we don't know what kind of trouble he might get into," Bruce agreed, reluctantly.

"Are you still going out to look for animal tracks after this?"

Bruce looked out at the weather with disgust. "It couldn't hurt to at least do a cursory inspection of the area."

* * *

The strip of lawn that separated the maze from the tree line offered no clues. The springy grass, although winter brown, didn't retain footprints for more than a few seconds. The leaf-laden ground beneath the trees covered any possible tracks that hadn't been washed away in the deluge of winter storms that had been blowing through Gotham for the last four days.

He was just preparing to return to the house when a bit of color caught Bruce's eye. Caught in a bush was a burgundy-colored napkin that looked suspiciously like the ones Alfred placed out at mealtimes. If it had held anything, the evidence was long since removed.

Picking it up, Bruce carried it back to the house. Despite his ever-growing belief that Alfred's theory was correct; that Dick was dreaming the wolf up and he had been sleepwalking the past three nights; Bruce suspected there was more to this story.

Unfortunately, this mystery was proving to be as daunting as any he chose to pursue as the Batman.

* * *

At a quarter til midnight, Dick was dressed and shoving tonight's treats under his jacket. Dinner had consisted of roasted pork tenderloin and Dick, with a masterful sleight of hand, if he did say so, had managed to purloin two entire slices. He had been forced to use a hand towel to wrap them in. Alfred's method of preparation had meant the juicy meat had soaked the napkin he had kept it in. It also meant he had needed to change his clothes again after dinner to avoid smelling like pork himself.

Dick thought that had been behind Bruce's intense interest in him while in his wolf form. He had smelled like food. He couldn't hope that Bruce's affection would stop him from wanting to eat him if Dick ran around smelling like steak or pork.

"Can I be of some assistance, Master Richard?"

Dick had been closing the door to his room when the voice startled him. He spun around to find Alfred looking down at him. Dick blinked in surprise. Alfred was sneaky!

He started to shake his head, but then changed his mind. Bruce had been really hungry last night.

"You scared me!" Dick held his hand over his stomach; mostly to keep his slices of pork from falling out from under his jacket. "Um, I was wondering if I may have a sandwich, Alfred."

The butler tilted his head at him as he considered the request.

Dick wondered if the man was suspicious, but he was reluctant to share with Alfred what he considered to be his and Bruce's secret. It didn't matter if the elder man knew already about Bruce or not; he didn't yet know that Dick shared that knowledge. If he blabbed, Bruce might think that he was untrustworthy and send him away.

To Dick, the world outside of the manor was far scarier than living with a werewolf.

"You ate very well at dinner," Alfred said slowly. "Are you indeed still hungry?"

Dick shrugged his shoulders and looked at the man's shoes. "I'm sorry. Never mind," Dick turned back to his room.

The butler laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Don't apologize for being hungry, young sir. You are still regaining the weight you had lost over the past couple of months. It isn't beyond reason for you to need additional sustenance."

"Huh?" Dick scrunched his nose at the unfamiliar word.

"Sustenance means nourishment," Alfred explained patiently.

Dick frowned and then his expression cleared. "Oh, yeah! I could use some more nourishment, please, Alfred, sir."

The man chuckled lightly and led the way to the kitchen. "Of course, Master Richard. What would you like tonight? I believe I may have a few chocolate chip cookies in the tin. How does that and a glass of milk sound to you?"

Dick trotted to keep up with the butler's long legged stride, although the man had shortened it to accommodate him. He liked cookies, but this snack wasn't for him.

"May I have a sandwich instead?" Dick asked as politely as he knew how.

Alfred seemed surprised by the boy's choice, but he nodded genially. "Of course, you may, young sir. Any particular kind?"

Dick thought about it. Bruce had chosen a ham sandwich when they had first gone to the lake a while back.

"Is ham okay with you?"

"A ham sandwich is quite 'okay' with me," Alfred assured him.

Dick sat for a time at the table in the kitchen, drinking his milk and slipping first one and then the other half of his ham sandwich under his shirt. He left a little bread crust and a few crumbs on the plate in order to convince the man that he had eaten the sandwich.

He slid carefully off of the chair so as not to lose his precious cargo. He had no way to explain why he was hoarding food.

"All done," he announced, and then covered his mouth as he gave a dramatic yawn. "Thank you, Alfred. I'm going to go back to bed now."

"Very good, young sir," Alfred said. But instead of taking the boy's plate, he followed Dick out of the kitchen.

No sneaking out of the study tonight, Dick thought glumly as the butler followed him up the stairs and walked him back to his room.

"Do you need any help getting back into bed," the older man asked him.

"No, thank you," Dick opened the door.

"One moment, Master Richard," Alfred said.

Dick froze, thinking he had been discovered, but Alfred merely walked to a cupboard in the hallway and produced a blanket.

"I couldn't help but notice that you are wearing your jacket inside," Alfred told him. "Here is an extra blanket for your bed. This old house can get rather drafty at times. We wouldn't want you to become chilled now, would we?"

Dick took the blanket, blushing. "Thank you, Alfred."

He felt a little guilty fooling the old man, but he just couldn't explain what he was doing yet; not until Bruce told him it was okay. He entered the room; closing the door behind him.

* * *

Dick checked the time as he deposited the blanket on his bed. Twelve-twenty. He was a twenty minutes late. Dick ran over to the window, and sure enough, the wolf was already there waiting on him. The light that extended from the house and the occasional break in the cloud cover was just enough to pick out the animal's shape in the darkness.

Determined to keep his promise, Dick ran to his closet and pulled out his backpack. It was the only thing that his social worker had allowed Dick to carry away from his home; it and whatever he could stuff inside.

Alfred had emptied his belongings out into the drawers and his few mementos on his dresser and bedside table. There was more than enough room to put Bruce's snacks. Dick transferred them from under his shirt; grimacing at the crumbs that slid down his pants. He hadn't time to change clothes again. He shoved his flashlight inside with the food. He wouldn't be able to carry it in his hands the way he was going.

Worried about running into the butler again, Dick climbed up onto the window seat and opened the casement window again. He remembered telling Bruce he wouldn't, but he had no other choice. He knew without saying that Alfred would stop him should he try to go out by any other means.

It was even colder tonight than it had been the night before. There was a fine drizzle and the droplets stung his cheeks a little. He caught some in his hand and discovered the rain was beginning to crystalize. Was this snow? He didn't think so, remembering seeing the white fluff in pictures and movies, but he didn't know what to call this particular weather phenomenon. He had never seen freezing rain before.

With extra care, Dick stepped out onto the ledge. He glanced from one side to the other and located a drain pipe fifteen feet to his left. Despite the rain, walking the ledge was easy. He had long ago learned to walk a tightrope; traversing a foot-wide bit of stonework was nothing in comparison.

Dick was cold though. He had planned to grab his winter coat from the closet by the foyer, but Alfred's appearance had interrupted that plan. He would just have to move fast and return quickly, he decided as he bent to determine the strength of the metal shaft. The metal was so cold it felt almost hot to Dick's fingertips. He never understood that oddity. Ignoring the sting, he adjusted his grip and then swung himself around.

He would have preferred to have done this with his bare feet, but the tennis shoes would have to do. They weren't nearly as good at gripping the uneven surface of the stones that made up the manor's outside walls. His feet slipped only once, but his grip on the drain was strong. He shinnied down the side of the building like a spider and pushed off of the wall into a backflip; taking him safely over the shrubbery that lined the wall and camouflaged the pipe.

He landed in the soggy grass with a splash, and his feet and lower legs were soaked by the water spewing from the drainage pipe. He was shivering now. He would definitely have to make this quick. If his hands became too numb, Dick would never be able to make the climb back up to his room. He shuddered to think what Alfred would think if Dick was forced to knock on the door to get back inside.

He sprinted toward the edge of the hedgerow maze.

* * *

The beeping of the home security system alerted Bruce to the breach. Someone had opened a door or a window, and he had a sneaking suspicion of who it was. He ran for the Bat computer from where he had been restocking the Batmobile's supplies; quickly typing in a command and the Bat computer's massive screen switched from the files that he had been scanning earlier that evening to the manor's security system.

Not the study door as he had expected, but Dick's window again.

Since he hadn't gone out on patrol, Bruce didn't need to bother changing out of his Bat suit before heading up the steps; taking two at a time. He wore a pair of khakis and heavy, cream-colored sweater that assisted in warding off the chill of the cave. He didn't hesitate at the clock, but moved swiftly through the study and into the hall.

"Alfred," he called.

The older man came out of the kitchen where he was cleaning up from the young master's midnight meal.

"What's happened, sir," Alfred asked, hurrying to keep up as he followed Bruce up the stairs.

"Dick's window was opened a few minutes ago," he told him.

Alfred looked surprised. "I had only just left the boy a few minutes ago. He had come downstairs dressed and in his red jacket. He was awake and oriented then. In fact, he had asked for a snack."

Bruce frowned. "Could he have had time to fall asleep so quickly?"

"I cannot say," Alfred admitted ruefully. "He had been yawning as he returned to his room."

Bruce glanced over at the older man keeping pace with him down the long hallway. "You said he was dressed and wore a jacket." At Alfred's confirmation, Bruce wondered aloud. "Could he be slipping outside purposely, and not sleepwalking at all?"

"Good heavens, I cannot imagine the boy would go outside in this sort of weather without an excellent reason," the butler exclaimed as they came upon Dick's door.

Bruce didn't hesitate. Worry had him barging into the room without the courtesy of a knock. He didn't know what to expect, but there was a knot of ice forming in his stomach. Years of being Batman had taught him to never ignore the premonitions that came from his gut. He didn't now, either.

He stumbled to a halt at the sight of an empty bed. His eyes immediately sought out the window as a cutting breeze swept over them. The casement window was wide open; as far as it could go. He didn't even need to look to know that the room was vacant; its one occupant gone!

Fear sent adrenaline shooting through his veins in an icy flow that made the freezing temperature in the room warm by comparison.

" _Dick_!" Bruce ran toward the window.

"Dear God," Alfred gasped behind him. "Please, tell me that he didn't . . ."

The older man couldn't finish the sentence. Bruce couldn't blame him. He clasped the sill and leaned out; the sting of sleet not even registering as he forced reluctant eyes to scan the patio below for signs of a small, broken body.

"I-I can't see well," he stammered. "Too many shadows where a small shape could hide, but I . . ." Bruce narrowed his eyes. "I don't think he's there. I don't think he fell."

"He's not in the bathroom," Alfred announced from behind him. The sound of a door snapping shut and another opening drifted to him

"Master Bruce!"

The sharpness of Alfred's voice had him spinning; hopeful that the butler had somehow located the boy.

"His backpack is missing," Alfred was frowning as he looked into Dick's walk-in closet. The older man moved briskly to the dresser and began opening drawers. His expression shifted from intensity to puzzlement. "Nothing is missing, however. If he ran away, he didn't take any of his clothes with him."

Bruce glanced at the mussed bed and spotted the stuffed, felt elephant that they knew the child adored. There was no way Dick would have voluntarily left the precious toy behind. It and a lone picture of him with his parents were just about the only sentimental items that the boy had retained after CPS had snatched him from the only home he had ever known. His eyes found the 5x7 framed photograph still standing in its place of honor on the bedside table.

A frightening thought speared him through his heart.

"Zucco . . .?" Bruce gasped. "Certainly we would have been alerted by the motion sensors had one of his men entered the property! It isn't possible . . ."

Alfred agreed. "You are quite correct, sir. It would be impossible."

" _Then where the hell is he_?" Bruce yelled. He turned back to the window. Had he missed something?

As he approached the window the second time his eyes scanned the tree line; automatically searching out the place that the boy had claimed to have seen the wolf from his dreams. Movement brought his gaze slicing back. He frowned as he stared in disbelief.

The storm's clouds disguised the outskirts of the gardens and the maze beyond in varying shades of darkness. But he could see it . . . barely. With the bit of starlight that broke through the cloud cover, and the brightness that came from the manor's windows; it was just enough to reflect off of the structures that edged the outer reaches of the landscaping. The shape was unmistakable, even in the inky shadows.

 _A wolf_ . . .

A big, black _wolf_!

Dick _hadn't_ been dreaming it. The animal was far too large to be a dog, even a large breed. It seemed impossible, but the proof was right there! How could such a large beast have gotten onto the property without anyone being alerted to its presence?

Before he could move or even announce to Alfred his discovery, a slice of light suddenly cut the darkness and illuminated the animal as another small shape emerged from behind the tall hedgerow walls that made up the maze; the all-too familiar shape of a child. Bruce's eyes widened in horror!

 _No_! _Dear God_! "What the hell is he doing?!"

The journey through the house was too far; it would take too long. Bruce glanced out to the side. The boy was a circus aerial acrobat, for God's sake! How could Bruce have forgotten that? He had to have found a way down from his window. A second was all it took for Bruce to spot the drain pipe. He immediately began to climb through the window and onto the ledge.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred leaned out the window in shock. "What are you doing?"

"He wasn't dreaming, Alfred!" Bruce barked over his shoulder.

He couldn't shift his attention. He wasn't in his Bat gear at the moment and his loafers weren't made for gripping wet, slippery ledges. His feet were nearly as wide as the damned ledge! He pressed his back against the stone wall as he worked his way to the pipe; its rough edges snagging at the knitted fibers of his sweater.

He gripped the pipe in one hand and prayed it was secure enough to bear his weight. He swung around and dangled for a moment as his loafers struggled to find purchase. Dick's tennis shoes would have managed a fair bit better than the footwear Bruce currently sported. He used his upper body strength to move down the side of the building. When he was at a more reasonable height, Bruce kicked off of the wall; landing on the lawn in a crouch.

He didn't pause, but took off toward the grassy corridor that separated the maze from the surrounding woods. He slipped as he rounded one corner; going down on one knee, his shoes unable to provide him the traction he needed. Without a thought, Bruce kicked off the offending footwear and ran ahead with naught but socks; ignoring the freezing wet that instantly enveloped his feet.

The going was still slippery, but it was better without the slick soles of the shoes slowing him down.

"Hang on, Dickie! I'm coming," Bruce gasped as he ran flat out.

* * *

Bruce stood up as Dick rounded the corner. It tilted its head as it eyed its visitor. It bared its teeth momentarily, causing Dick to halt in caution.

"Wh-What's the m-matter," Dick said to the wolf with chattering teeth. "Y-You remem-member m-me!"

As if it did, the wolf's hackles lowered and it stepped forward; its nose twitching.

Dick laughed nervously. "You remem-member me b-bringing you f-food, d-don't you?"

Bruce's blue eyes flashed silver as the beam of the flashlight reflected back at the boy. It looked at him interested. It took another couple of steps in Dick's direction. Dick took another couple of steps closer as well. He needed to be close enough to toss Bruce's treats to him without doing an impression of a baseball pitcher.

Slowly, cautiously, Dick slid his backpack from his shoulders and lowered it to the ground in front of him. The wolf's eyes were watching his every move intently. Its nose stretched out as the scent of pork reached it despite the backpack and the wintry wind that whipped around them and whistled in the trees forlornly.

Dick hurried to unzip the backpack and jerked the towel a couple of times to free up the slices of tenderloin. He picked one of the slices up and held it out to the wolf.

"You liked th-this, d-didn't you?" Dick smiled and tossed the meat toward the beast.

It watched him as it closed the distance between it and its treat. It sniffed the meat cautiously, obviously unused to the smells of the seasoning. It bit into the piece of pork and put a massive paw on top of the tenderloin in order to tear a chunk off. It seemed to toss the bite back and swallow it whole. The wolf then made quick work of the rest of the slice.

When it was finished, it looked up at the boy in front of it. Dick had taken another couple of steps closer as it had eaten the food. It stared at him and sniffed the air.

Dick grinned despite how hard his teeth were chattering. "It was g-g-good, w-wasn't it? Alf-f-fred is a g-good c-cook, isn't h-he?"

It tilted its head, contemplating the small being in front of it. It seemed curious that the child in front of it didn't appear afraid of it. It glanced at the backpack that was dangling at Dick's side. It licked it muzzle.

Dick giggled. It sounded funny while he was shivering. He reached inside the backpack. His hand found half of his ham sandwich next. He held it out in front of him instead of tossing it this time. The wolf took another step forward. Its eyes went from Dick's face to the sandwich in his hand.

"N-not t-t-too t-trusting, are you?" Dick stammered.

He tossed the sandwich only half the distance between them in attempt to coax the animal a bit closer. Dick really, really wanted to pet Bruce even though he knew his guardian would feel cold and wet. Dick could see bits of ice caught in Bruce's fur.

The wolf moved to the sandwich without hesitation this time. It scarfed down the bit of sandwich in one motion. It looked up as if waiting for more.

Dick reached in and brought out the other half of the sandwich. He held it out in front of him again.

"C-come on, B-B-Bruce," Dick cajoled the animal. "Y-You let m-me h-hug you j-just the other d-d-day. I t-told you th-that I wouldn't t-tell anyone your s-secret. I p-p-promised!"

Bruce held its nose out and sniffed at the sandwich in the boy's hand. It was so close now that its nose could almost touched the sliced ham. Dick smiled. He jiggled the sandwich that was quickly becoming soggy in the icy rain.

Those eyes moved over Dick's face. The shiver that caught the boy could only be partly blamed on the weather. The wildness made his guardian's eyes seem foreign.

It moved so fast that Dick almost didn't register the movement. One second he was holding the sandwich and the next the wolf was tossing it down.

Dick's breath caught. He had felt the briefest touch of fur and the slightest graze of teeth over his fingers. He was so cold, he was a bit surprised that he felt anything at all. The light from his flashlight caught a bit of color and Dick frowned as he looked at his hand.

What he thought was only a graze of teeth was apparently a bit more than that as Dick stared at the blood staining his fingertips. He held the hand closer to his face. It wasn't much, but Bruce's teeth had nipped the ends of two of his fingers. The cold had kept him from feeling the pain.

"It's o-okay," the boy said quietly. "You d-didn't m-mean it. It w-was an ac-cident."

When he looked up, the wolf was standing directly in front of him. Dick's eyes widened as it pressed its nose into his jacket, sniffing him. It moved up to his face and neck; breathing in the boy's scent.

Dick held very still; his heart was pounding again since rounding the corner of the maze and coming face to face with his guardian in werewolf form. The wolf's breath ruffled his damp hair as its nose pushed the hood from his head. Dick blinked, and then seemed to come to himself. He wasn't in danger . . .

This was _Bruce_! This was his guardian! Bruce wouldn't hurt him; at least, not on purpose.

He raised his hand up and gently touched fur of Bruce's neck as the wolf snuffled him. It was cold and wet as he knew it would be, but the fur was also coarse. His fingers dove deeper into the thick hide and he felt the soft undercoat beneath the longer hair of the outercoat. It was warm and caused his fingertips to tingle with the sensation.

Bruce stopped sniffing him to dip his head toward the backpack.

Dick laughed; pulling the backpack away from the wolf's muzzle and into his arms.

"Y-you smell th-the other p-piece of p-p-pork," he teased. "O-Okay. H-Hang on." He reached into the bag as the wolf stepped back as if in anticipation.

Suddenly, the wolf's hackles raised and a deep, terrifying growl rose from its throat. Startled, Dick's head jerked up, but Bruce wasn't looking at him. Its silvery-blue eyes was staring hard behind him.

Dick gulped and moved over out the animal's way.

He could hear the sound of running feet now. Someone was coming, and they were moving fast! His eyes widened as he remembered Alfred.

 _Oh no_! How long had he been gone? Being with Bruce had been amazing and he had lost track of time. He had even forgotten the rain and the wind for a few minutes!

He placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. He was afraid that he was about to witness his guardian attack and maul Alfred; sure that the butler had discovered him missing and come looking for him.

Heavy breathing . . . Panting, and then a large figure rounded the corner and skidded to a halt; too big to be Alfred. Dick's flashlight had been forgotten in his other hand, but the light that extended beyond the boundaries of its beam was enough to allow Dick to suddenly recognize the intruder.

His mouth dropped open and Dick jerked his hand back from the wolf's shoulder.

"B-Bruce?!"

Dick shot a glance at the enraged wild animal beside him that was currently glaring at his guardian; growling so deeply and loudly that Dick could feel the rumbling vibrations in his chest. He looked at his guardian in shock!

"B-B-But I th-thought . . ."

"Dick," Bruce's voice was calm and soft. "Very slowly, I need you to step away from the wolf."

* * *

Bruce almost lost his footing rounding that last corner. He had been preparing himself for a lot of things, including the necessity of having to take down a wild wolf barehanded, but not for what he found. His terror hadn't decreased, but disbelief was now added to it.

Dick, standing beside the wolf with one hand buried in its fur. The wolf was growling and baring its teeth, but not at the child beside it. No, it growled at him. Dickie was gaping in shock; looking first at the wolf and then at Bruce and then back at the wolf.

"B-Bruce?!" Dick's teeth were chattering from the cold. "B-B-But I th-thought . . ."

Bruce clenched his jaw to prevent his own teeth from clacking together. He took a deep breath. He needed to remain calm; not make any sudden moves.

"Dick," he spoke softly so as not to alarm the animal into attacking. "Very slowly, I need you to step away from the wolf."

He watched the boy swallow; his eyes darting to the angry wolf as he took one step away. So far, so good. The wolf's entire attention remained on Bruce. Dick took another step and then another.

"Alright," Bruce told him; keeping the beast in his sight, but avoiding direct eye contact. He wasn't here to challenge the wolf unless it became aggressive . . . Or more aggressive. "Now then, begin making your way over to me . . . Slowly," he reminded the boy.

Dick managed about three steps before the wolf's attention shifted to the boy. Fear stabbed at him, and Bruce stepped forward assertively. The animal's head whipped around and its head dipped low; its ears flattened and its tail lowered stiff and straight. The volume of its growl grew.

Dick stood frozen in between them; his gaze shooting first to one and then to the other. His shivering was violent, and although it was freezing outside; the sleet was becoming more crystalized and flakes of snow were interspersed throughout, Bruce suspected that part of it was from fear. A thousand questions had bombarded his mind on his mad race to get to the boy before something unbearable could happen, but now . . . His mind was a blank, but for one thought. To get Dick away from the wolf.

"Easy . . ." He wasn't certain at this point who he was speaking to; the wolf, Dick, or himself. "Begin sliding a foot forward and easing your way towards me."

He could see the child's obedience in his periphery. Bruce held the wolf's gaze for a long moment before once again lowering his eyes in submission. Were it to become a fight, Bruce didn't hold out a lot of hope that he could prevail. This beast's head was nearly even with his chest.

But Dick was counting on him.

Bruce clenched his jaw; this time in determination. He would prevail because there was simply no other choice. He couldn't be certain that Dick would know enough run away should he have to battle the wolf. If the boy remained, whether through fear or misplaced loyalty, he could be injured or killed. Bruce would have no choice in that case, but to somehow kill the animal.

Dick was nearly to him. Bruce reached out his arm towards him. The wolf snarled and stepped forward aggressively. Bruce froze, but kept his arm extended toward the boy.

Dick glanced back at the wolf; biting his lip. His eyes widened as if a thought suddenly came to him. Abruptly, he shoved his hand back into the backpack.

"It's o-okay," the boy crooned to the animal. "I s-still have y-your t-treat right h-here!" He pulled out what Bruce recognized as a slice of pork tenderloin Alfred had served them for dinner. "Th-Thanks for n-not eating m-me! H-Here you g-go!"

Dick threw the pork so that it landed right between the wolf's front paws. The wolf stepped back and then lowered its head to sniff the meat in front of it without looking away. Recognizing the scent of the first morsel the boy had fed it, the wolf dipped its head and snatched to food in its jaws.

Dick flew at Bruce and he quickly scooped the child up in his arms. The wolf was consuming the pork; its attention momentarily diverted.

Clutching the child to his chest, Bruce spun on his heel and ran.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Come on . . . You have to have some kind of thoughts or reactions to that! Let me hear them! Please? It is my only true joy in life.**

 **Wow! That sounded pathetic, didn't it? LOL! Okay, not my only joy, but a good part of it.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I didn't expect this chapter to turn into a Daddy Bruce moment . . . Okay, so then we have another couple of chapters to go. My short stories are seldom ever actually _short_. Enjoy the fluffy goodness of another one of Bruce's early forays into the mystical realm of fatherhood. ;D**

 **Watch for POV changes. Mostly flipping back and forth between Bruce and Dick.**

 **Warning: Some Language . . .**

* * *

Alfred held the door to the study open; searching the night for signs of the master and the child. He had only a glimpse of the terrifying vision that sent Bruce scrambling out through the boy's window and into the storm.

Young Master Dick facing down an enormous black wolf!

 _Dear Lord_! And he had suggested all this time that the child had been merely dreaming! Whatever had possessed the boy to seek out the creature alone? Surely not to somehow prove the animal's existence! How would he live with himself should the child be killed by the wild beast?

Minutes passed and Alfred grew more worried. He had swung by his room and retrieved his shotgun. Checking to see if it was loaded, the butler had only just decided to brave the elements to rescue Master Bruce and the boy, when he saw the bobbing beam of light shining from beyond the far side of the maze.

Seconds later, Master Bruce tore around the corner, clutching the boy in his arms. He slid in the saturated grass; one hand shooting out to catch himself, somehow managing to keep his footing. Alfred stepped onto the patio; raising his gun in preparation for whatever hell was nipping at their heels, but thankfully nothing appeared.

The master barreled past him and into the warmth and safety of the study. Alfred stepped in behind them and shut the door; turning the deadbolt and punching in the code to rearm the security system. He dropped the draperies; as anxious as the room's other two occupants to block out the terrors of the night.

* * *

Bruce knelt and set Dick onto the sofa as Alfred moved to stir up the banked fire. His hands were shaking from fear and the cold as he shoved the child's wet hair out of his face and began scanning the boy for injuries.

"Oh, I say," Alfred's voice came to him. "Were you forced to engage the animal after all, sir?"

"I . . . ah, no, Alfred. It was close, but we were able to get away without resorting to a confrontation," Bruce assured the older man.

"Then where, pray tell, did this blood come from?" Alfred laid his hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"What?"

Bruce tugged on his sweater and turned his head to see what it was his butler was talking about. Sure enough, there was a patch of bright red over his left shoulder. He couldn't remember doing anything to have caused himself injury during his reckless dash to reach Dick. And if it didn't come from him, then . . .

"Where are you hurt?" Bruce snapped the question; regretting it when the boy winced and pulled away. He asked again in a softer tone. "Dickie, please, I need to see. Did the wolf scratch or bite you?"

Dick was holding his hand against his red jacket; the color of the material doing its job in hiding any blood. Bruce's breathing was not quite back to normal yet. He blew his breath out in an effort to further calm himself. The boy was obviously terrified. He reached for the child's hand, but Dick pulled back.

"Dick, there's a chance that the wolf might have been sick. Let me see your hand," Bruce spoke calmly, but firmly. He held his hand out, but was careful not to reach for the boy this time. He would wait for the child to come to him.

* * *

Dick held his hand tight against his belly.

How could he be so wrong? He could have gotten Bruce killed, just like his parents! CPS would come and take him back to the detention center, but this time they would leave him there forever for hurting the people around him!

If his fingers were hurt, it was only what he deserved! Tears of shame and terror flooded his eyes now that they were both safe.

"Dick, let me see your hand," Bruce's voice changed from coaxing to commanding.

He loosened his hold and let his hand fall to his lap. He didn't have the strength to give it to him directly. Bruce must have understood because he picked up Dick's hand and gently turned it over.

"Ouch, buddy," He hissed in sympathy. "Does it hurt?"

It didn't . . . at least, it hadn't until Bruce said something. His hand was beginning to warm up enough for him to feel something other than numbness. The sting was sharp.

"It's okay," he mumbled around the lump in his throat. "It was an accident."

His two middle fingertips had a couple of gouges along the pads from where Bruce . . . He meant the wolf had nipped him while taking the sandwich out of his hand. They weren't deep, but it was enough to bleed freely.

"Dick, why did you go outside," Bruce asked; his upset and frustration were making his voice harsh again. "Why the devil would you confront a wild animal all by yourself? It might have _killed_ you!"

Dick bit his lip. He didn't want to answer. His reasons sounded so stupid now, but they hadn't yesterday! They had made sense then. Tears leaked out, despite his best efforts to withhold them, and dripped onto his wet jacket. Rather than answer, Dick shook his head; the motion loosening up a few more tears that rolled down his face. He quickly scrubbed away the evidence before Bruce could see it because . . . _only babies cried_.

Bruce sighed and began unzipping the boy's jacket. "Come on, then, chum. Let's get you out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia."

Alfred had returned from wherever he had gone. Dick hadn't even noticed the man had left the room until he was laying down fresh pajamas and socks, a robe and slippers for Bruce, and a first aid kit on the sofa next to him.

"Let's see what you've done to yourself, Master Richard," Alfred tsked quietly. He reached for Dick's hand. "We should have Dr. Leslie take a look at your fingers." Alfred then spoke to Bruce. "It's imperative that we capture that wolf, sir, and have it tested for rabies. Otherwise, Master Richard will have no choice, but to go through taking the entire series of shots as a precaution."

"No!" Dick jerked his hand away. "No! Leave it alone! Leave _me_ alone! I hope my hand falls off!"

He rolled to his feet and flipped over the back of the sofa. He was out the door and running for his room while the two men gaped at his retreating back in surprise.

* * *

"Dick!" Bruce jumped up. "Come back here, young man!" But he was talking to air as Dick disappeared through the door.

Alfred placed a calming hand on Bruce's arm. "Patience, Master Bruce. The boy just went through a very traumatic experience. We must ascertain what sort of thoughts are going on in his head. For some reason, I believe he feels responsible for this whole debacle."

Bruce sighed. "What do you suggest I do? He must have those fingers tended to tonight. He needs a warm bath and a warm bed and . . . Ah hell! What am I doing, Alfred? I have no business taking in a child. I have no clue what this boy needs."

"On the contrary, Master Bruce, you seem to have a decent grasp on the situation at the moment," Alfred soothed. "A warm bath is exactly what the boy needs. His fingers can easily be cleaned in the tub, and as the gouges are small, Band-Aids should be sufficient to take care of those injuries for tonight. After a good night's sleep, I am certain the young sir should feel more the thing in the morning light."

"I don't understand, Alfred," Bruce looked despairingly at the older man.

The butler, however, understood perfectly. The master was worried about his young charge and that was as it should be.

"You are doing fine, sir. You saved his life. That would be a step in the right direction, I would wager. And perhaps, once he is settled, the boy will be more inclined to answer your questions," Alfred assured him. "If not, then perhaps on the morrow. Either way, it might be a good idea for one of us to remain with him tonight."

"One of us meaning _me_ ," Bruce correctly surmised.

"Indeed, sir," Alfred told him. "Most assuredly it should be you."

* * *

Dick slammed the door to his room and started to throw himself on the bed, but stopped just short of it. He was soaking. He had already caused so much trouble tonight, he didn't want to create more work for Alfred. Dick started stripping off his wet clothing.

He pulled open the drawer and saw the clothing that Alfred had purchased for him. He tugged open another and saw more new stuff mixed in with some of his own clothes. Dick pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that his mother had bought him this past fall, and slipped those on. His jacket was still too wet to put back on, so Dick hung it up in the bathroom to dry.

He grabbed Eleanor, his elephant, and the picture of his parents and sat down in the corner of the room. He tucked his bare feet under him to keep them warm, and finally . . . finally allowed himself to cry, albeit silently.

"I ruined everything," he told the picture. "There's no way either of them will want me to stay now. They will probably send me back to the detention center tomorrow, but I _can't_ go back there!" Dick hiccupped. "I just can't!

And he _wouldn't_! It would be better to be out on his own than back in that awful place!

Dick scrambled up to his feet. He had carried his backpack upstairs with him, although he hadn't remembered doing it. He pulled the soiled towel out of it, started stuffing into it everything he had brought with him. He couldn't find his socks, though. Alfred had thrown them away when he had bought Dick the new ones.

Dick shoved his feet back into his wet shoes; clenching his teeth against the cold. He would just have to go without. He refused to take any of the new stuff with him. Bruce could give it to a more deserving little boy.

"Why did you have to go and leave me?" Dick whispered to the picture of his parents as he shoved them on top of everything else. It would have been better had he not hesitated on that night two months ago, but leapt out and joined them. At least then they would all have been together.

* * *

Bruce was nearly to the boy's door when it opened and Dick's head popped out. He gasped upon seeing Bruce, but then a look of determination crossed his face. He moved out into the hall; his backpack in his hand and still wearing the damp red jacket.

"Whoa there, sport," Bruce said, catching the back of the jacket when Dick tried to dart around him. "Where are you going?"

"Let go," Dick yelled; squirming. "I'm _not_ going back there! _I'm not_!"

"Back where?"

The boy was slick. Bruce struggled to keep a hold of him. Dick unzipped the jacket and slid out of it; leaving Bruce standing in the hall holding nothing but the damp material. Dick started running for the stairs, tugging his backpack on even with Bruce hot on his heels.

"Dick, wait! Hold up!"

Bruce was almost to him; was reaching for him when Dick, instead of heading down the stairs, leapt onto the bannister and then propelled himself into the air above the foyer. His hands stretched out in front of him, Dick caught hold of the chandelier, swung once and then flipped twice. His feet landed on the round table that decorated the entryway; rattling the floral arrangement, but then the boy leapt again before it could overbalance. With another forward flip; the boy landed neatly on the floor just a couple of feet from the front door.

Bruce's mouth dropped open at the daring move, but he didn't stop. Instead, he hurtled himself over the bannister; rolling on his landing and coming up onto his feet in one smooth move to dart after the boy. Truth be told, he might not have caught up to him as quickly if the child could have managed to open the front door. When presented with the idea that Dick might be sleepwalking yesterday, Bruce had implemented a secondary protocol that required a code in order to open the outside doors and ground floor windows of the manor, even from the inside.

After today, come Monday, he planned to add electronic locks to the second and third floor windows as well.

"Dick," Bruce began as he grabbed the child's arm.

" _No_! You aren't sending me back," Dick yelled in a panic. He didn't even think, but lashed out automatically.

Dick twisted in Bruce's grip and ran up (Ran Up!) his guardian's body; stepping first on the man's leg, then his abdomen, and finally his chest before kicking Bruce in the chin. Startled and unprepared for such an action, he let go of the boy as Dick flipped back onto his feet. Then, sliding neatly between the man's legs, Dick took off in another direction.

Bruce staggered, one hand rubbing his bruised chin, and turned to stare in amazement at the fleeing boy. The kid packed one hell of a wallop! He shook his head and gave chase.

The boy led him on a merry one at that, all throughout the house, as Dick tried two more doors and a window before giving up and heading back to his room. Each confrontation, the child managed to perform a different aerial or contortion maneuver that enabled him to slip free or to evade capture altogether. As Bruce caught up to him on the steps, he grabbed Dick's backpack only to have the boy slide his arms out of it. When Bruce pursued him back into his room, Dick leapt onto the window seat and pushed open the casement window.

"Dick, _stop_! Please," Bruce called out as the child stepped one foot out into the freezing weather.

The sleet had made the change into snow during the last half hour and now coated the ledge in white. The boy wouldn't find traversing it as easily now as he had previously. Bruce held up his backpack and unzipped it; yanking out the picture of his parents and Dick's toy elephant. Bruce let the bag drop; retaining the only two items that the boy deemed valuable.

"You wouldn't want to leave without these," Bruce told him.

* * *

Dick, upon seeing the icy ledge, had hesitated. He glanced back over his shoulder at his guardian, and bit his lip. The man held his most prized possessions out temptingly.

"Give them back," he begged; his anxiety making his voice crack.

"You can have them," Bruce promised. "Just come back inside. It's too cold, and you no longer even have a jacket."

Dick didn't move. They were both panting from their exertion.

"I won't go back there," he told him. "I'd rather take my chances on the streets than go back to that place."

"The streets would be the first to send you back," Bruce told him simply. "You are talking about the detention center, aren't you?"

Dick nodded once.

"Son, whatever gave you the idea that I would send you back there? That place isn't meant for someone like you. It's meant for troubled teens who run afoul the law; not for little boys who have lost their families," Bruce explained carefully.

"Everything," Dick whispered.

"What?" Bruce's eyebrows drew together as he tried to hear the boy over the whistling of the wind.

" _ **Everything**_!" Dick screamed at him suddenly. " _I've lost_ _ **everything**_ **!** " Dick's face crumpled as the first tears Bruce had seen the boy shed since the night of his parents' death escaped the emotional dam and streamed down the boy's cheeks.

Bruce shook his head. " _No_! No, you haven't," he corrected. "You haven't lost me. Or Alfred . . . Dick, we brought you here because we wanted you here. Safe . . . with us."

"But not _forever_ ," Dick cried. "I'm just here until Zucco gets caught, and then they'll take me back."

"But not to the detention center," Bruce corrected him. "CPS would find you a nice family . . ."

"I don't _want_ some nice family! I want . . . I want . . ." Dick choked on a sob.

* * *

"You want _your_ family back," Bruce finished for him. "I know, and I'm sorry, Dickie. You cannot know how sorry I am that I can't give you back everything that you've lost. I know it's not much, but I want to try to find you the next best thing."

"You mean you want to send me away," Dick said, miserably. "What makes you think anyone else would want me if _you_ don't even want me. I'm just some gypsy tramp."

"Don't say that," Bruce snapped at him. "Don't ever say that!"

Dick's foot shifted on the snowy ledge, and Bruce held out his hands, beseechingly. "That's not true; what you said. Please, just come inside. Let's you and I talk this over in here, where it's safe and warm."

Dick shook his head. "You don't want me. You _can't_ want me. I-I should have jumped," he said, suddenly. "I was supposed to have jumped just before the wires broke. Why didn't I jump when I was supposed to? At least then we could have all been together!"

" _No_! No, no, Dick. That's not what they would have wanted for you," Bruce was getting desperate. _Where was Alfred_? He needed Alfred!

"And they wanted _this_ for me?" Dick cried out, waving his arm in the air. "This . . . this _nothingness_? This world doesn't want me! It doesn't need me! I'm nothing but a bunch of trouble here. . ." His voice fading.

" _ **I**_ _want you_!" Bruce declared. He was as startled as the boy was, but he wasn't lying. It was true. "I want you, Dick. _I_ need you."

"But not forever," the boy insisted; shaking his head. "Just until they can find another place for me."

 _Forever_ . . . It didn't seem like such a long time to Bruce anymore. It was beginning to sound pretty good. He wondered briefly if that was his fatigue talking, though. The boy had led him a merry chase all right, but it was worth it, he thought. Dick was worth it!

"You're not a bunch of trouble."

Dick stared at him disbelieving. "How can you say that after tonight?"

Bruce smiled. "I'll agree that tonight was unusual, but it doesn't matter because you're worth it."

"B-But I almost got you killed tonight!" Dick exclaimed.

"But you didn't," Bruce told him. "I'm not that easy to get rid of, you know."

"Y-You weren't going to send me back in the morning?" Dick asked hesitantly.

"No! Of course not! Alfred and I want you here," Bruce insisted. He took a step forward now that he felt that the boy wouldn't try to run from him again.

"But not for- . . ." Dick cut off from what he was going to say.

"Forever?" Bruce finished for him. "Is that what you want, Dick? Do you want to stay here with _me_ . . . and with Alfred, forever?"

Dick stood frozen on the ledge. Snow glistened in his hair; turning it white, and he was beginning to shiver again. Bruce began to wonder if the child was going to answer him at all.

"Maybe . . ." The word slipped out quietly. Dick was panting again, like he had been holding his breath while he had thought about his answer. "I mean, if it's okay with _you_ . . . and with Alfred.'

"I think it would be more than okay," Bruce told him.

A tiny smile flickered on Dick's face. "Really? Do you really mean that?"

Bruce hesitated for only a second. Did he really mean that? The answer was surprisingly easy to come by.

"Yes, Dickie, I really do," he smiled back. "Now, come back inside before you freeze into a Popsicle."

As Dick shifted his weight, his back foot slipped on the ledge and he went down; his knee striking the ledge before it, too, slipped off. Dick landed on his stomach with a grunt; his hands scrabbling for purchase on the window sill, but his fingers had grown clumsy and slow while he stood in the cold. The boy's eyes widened when he realized that he was going to fall.

Bruce lunged across the space and grabbed the boy's wrist; thrusting his upper body through the opening in his effort to catch the child. For one split second, Dick dangled above the snow-covered, cobblestone patio before Bruce managed to haul him up.

Bruce dragged him back into the room, and they slid down onto the floor in a heap; limp and weak as the tremendous surge of adrenaline crashed just as quickly as it had come. Bruce clutched the boy to his chest as terror and relief warred within him for several long minutes.

After a little while, Dick began to squirm.

"Uh, Bruce?" He gasped. "I can't breathe."

Bruce started laughing as he eased his steel-like grip on the boy. "Sorry about that, chum. Are you okay?"

"I-I think so," Dick adjusted his position, but didn't crawl out of Bruce's lap. Instead, he leaned his head on the man's chest and sighed.

Bruce stretched back over the edge of the window seat; careful not to dislodge his occupant as he reached behind him. He pulled the window closed with one hand. His other hand remained wrapped around the boy, albeit loosely now. They sat like that for a while. So long, in fact, that Bruce began to think that maybe Dick had fallen asleep, but then the boy spoke.

"I'm sorry for kicking you," he whispered.

Bruce smirked as he rubbed his chin. It was still smarting. He shrugged. "It's okay. But that was some kind of impressive technique you have there."

Dick craned his neck to look up at the man. "Technique?"

"Fighting style," Bruce clarified.

Dick's face scrunched up in confusion. "I wasn't trying to fight you. I was just trying to get away."

Bruce pursed his lips as the notion that what he had witnessed tonight had been nothing but the child's own natural instincts. _Damn_! _Imagine what the boy could accomplish with a little bit of training_ . . .

He quickly shoved that ridiculous thought aside. "So, are you ready to tell me why you crawled through your window to go confront a wild animal?"

Dick was quiet for a long moment, and then he shrugged his shoulders. "I . . . uh, I kind of thought he was you."

Bruce blinked. He wasn't sure what sort of answer he was expecting, but that wasn't it!

"Explain," he said.

"It sounds so stupid now," Dick ducked his head; tucking his face close to Bruce's chest.

"It obviously wasn't stupid to you when you decided to go."

"I . . ." the boy sighed. "I thought you were a werewolf," Dick whispered.

Bruce blinked again. "A . . . _What_?"

"You kept disappearing every evening, and then, the wolf would appear," Dick leaned back to explain. "And in the morning you knew I had opened my window when only the wolf and I knew about that. And then you knew I went out into the garden last night when it was only the wolf and I as well."

"Wait! Hold up!" Bruce stared at the boy in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you met with the wolf last night as well?"

Dick ducked his head again, and nodded. "I thought he was you," he explained again.

"Dear God," Bruce gasped at the thought that the boy might have been mauled by that animal the night before. "How did you manage to do that without the animal attacking you?"

Dick shrugged again. "I suppose I might have fed him some of my dinner."

Bruce thought back. "We had steak. You fed the wolf steak?"

"He seemed to really like it, just like you did," Dick grinned suddenly, but then grew thoughtful. "But he seemed hungry still after that, so I promised him that I would come back tonight with more."

"Hungry?" Bruce repressed a shudder. "You didn't consider that he might have eaten you?"

"I thought about that. But then this rabbit came out of nowhere, and when the wolf took off after it, I ran back here," Dick told him.

"And you _still_ went back out there tonight?"

"Of course," Dick looked up at him seriously. "I promised."

Bruce slumped back against the window seat. "You confronted what you thought was a werewolf . . . You thought _**I**_ was a werewolf, and you still wanted to stay here with me and Alfred? I'm surprise that you weren't scared of me?"

"Maybe a little in the beginning . . . when I first decided that you must be the wolf," Dick admitted. "But you had plenty of opportunities to eat me before then and you didn't, so I thought that maybe you were a nice werewolf, and that Alfred kept you fed up enough that you wouldn't go around eating regular people."

Bruce was nodding slightly, still in a shocked stupor, but then something Dick said caught his attention.

" _Regular_ people? As opposed to _unusual_ people?"

Dick leaned back against Bruce's chest; snuggling even. Bruce allowed his arms to pull the boy closer; being careful this time not to squish the lad.

"Yeah," Dick agreed happily. "Regular people like me as opposed to unusual people like Catwomen."

Bruce's jaw dropped. "Where did you hear about Catwoman?"

Dick yawned, feeling sleepy now that he was finally getting warm. "I overheard you talking to Alfred about fighting with her all night." He blinked up at his guardian. "Why were you fighting a Catwoman? Is she anything like a werewolf?"

Bruce blew out a startled breath. "Uh, I think that is a conversation for another day, chum," he said; thankful that the boy seemed as exhausted as Bruce himself was feeling. "How about we get you changed into some warm pajamas, and clean up those fingers so they don't fall off; then we can get you tucked up into bed for the night?"

Dick yawned so big his jaw cracked. "Okay," he mumbled; making no move to get up from his nice, warm spot in Bruce's lap. "Bruce?"

"Hm?" Bruce rumbled.

"I don't really hope my hand falls off," the boy sighed.

Bruce smiled. "It will be okay, Dickiebird," he murmured. "Go to sleep, and don't worry your head about it. I think I can handle this part just fine on my own."

Climbing to his feet; Bruce moved the child to the bed. It took a little finagling as the boy had indeed fallen asleep, but eventually Dick was changed into his new flannel pajamas and wrapped up in his blankets; two large Band-Aids finally gracing the boy's freshly-cleaned fingers.

He would call Leslie tomorrow after he got a hold of animal control. If they could capture the beast, they could have it tested; otherwise, Dick would have no choice, but to go through a series of rabies shots. The animal didn't appear to be rabid, but he refused to take chances with the boy's health.

Pulling up the upholstered chair; Bruce placed his feet on the edge of Dick's bed. Although he didn't believe the boy would try to run away again, Bruce thought he would be able to sleep a little better remaining close by . . . just in case the child had a bad dream, he told himself.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Yeah, Bruce . . . Just in case Dick had a bad dream. Right. Keep telling yourself that.**

 **Okay, my fault . . . I should have double-checked my facts about the rabies treatment. I was going by memory (faulty one, at that). I thought you had a little time before the rabies treatment would become necessary. You know, like a few days to a week, BUT turns out that treatment should begin ASAP (i.e., the first day), and with shots given intramuscularly (with some infusion of the human rabies immune globulin at the site of the bite - think in the bite wound - and then the rest of it in the muscle close to it (2). Then also shot of the actual rabies vaccine (1).) the first day - You're probably looking at 3 shots the first day. Then a shot of the vaccine on day 3, day 7, and day 14.**

 **For the story purposes, Dick will receive the treatment the next morning. :P**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm repeating this A/N from the previous chapter for the sake of everyone who had already read it before I posted this little tidbit. Whoops! Sorry . . .**

 **Okay, my fault . . . I should have double-checked my facts about the rabies treatment. I was going by memory (faulty one, at that). I thought you had a little time before the rabies treatment would become necessary. You know, like a few days to a week, BUT turns out that treatment should begin ASAP (i.e., the first day), and with shots given intramuscularly (with some infusion of the human rabies immune globulin at the site of the bite - think in the bite wound! - and then the rest of it in the muscle close to it (this would equal 3 shots in Dick's case). Then also a shot of the actual rabies vaccine (plus 1 more).) on the first day - You're probably looking at 3 to 4 shots the first day. Then a shot of the vaccine on day 3, day 7, and day 14.**

 **Warning: Some Language and Disturbing Scene . . .**

* * *

It was nearly nightfall the next day when Bruce entered the house through the mudroom beyond the kitchen. He stomped the snow from his boots, and shook it from his coat and toboggan and hung them up to dry. Alfred was waiting with a cup of hot coffee. He took it gratefully and sat beside Dick at the kitchen counter.

The boy was nursing a cup of hot cocoa. He was looking anxious as he awaited the verdict, but kept silent. According to Alfred, when Bruce had checked in with him throughout the course of the day, Dick had been quiet for most of the day; spending it in either the library or in his room. Other than a low grade fever and soreness in his arm left over from his treatment during Leslie's visit, Alfred had assured him that Dick was doing fine.

The visit had been unpleasant. Leslie had insisted that Dick start the rabies treatment immediately. The boy had been relatively stoic throughout, but the shots had been painful; particularly when she had found it necessary to inject some of the HRIG into each of the bite sites. Fingers are especially sensitive. The boy's eyes had teared up, but none had fallen despite the fact that he had received four shots in all today with the promise of more to come.

Despite that his exposure to the wolf had been the cause of his miserable day, Dick was concerned over the fate of the animal. Taking a long drink of the hot beverage in an effort to warm himself up from the inside out, Bruce didn't keep him waiting long.

"I've been all over the grounds with Animal Control," he stated simply. "There is no sign of the wolf anywhere. They are convinced that it fled the property."

Alfred's face was unreadable as he asked, "And what do you think, sir?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't know, Alfred. I can't imagine him fleeing the area when it had been so good at providing for him." He glanced meaningfully at the boy next to him. "But we can't even locate where he's been sheltering."

"Odd," Alfred said; placing a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup in front of the younger man.

"And how was your day," Bruce inquired. Alfred had been busy, he knew, with his own project in between caring for the boy.

"The perimeter breach was exactly where you said it was," the older man stated. "It looked as though a car had plowed into the wall there, but I found little evidence of a wrecked vehicle left behind what with the snow; just a few shards of fiberglass. It was exactly as you had described despite further investigation. Neither was I able to locate any information pertaining to an accident in the last three weeks occurring in that vicinity. Perhaps you will have better luck."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the sound of that. It was rather suspicious.

He turned to the child next to him and ruffled the dark hair. A smile eased his mouth when the messy locks looked neater for it than they had beforehand. Alfred had lamented numerous occasions on the difficulty found in trying to tame the unruly mane. Bruce's hand had more luck apparently than did a comb or brush. He made a note to take the boy to his barber later this week, once he was feeling better.

"And your day," Bruce asked the boy. "Was it terrible being confined to the house?"

He suspected it was; especially with several inches of freshly fallen snow tempting him through every window. But then again, he hadn't exactly been feeling up to par. Tomorrow would be better. The wolf was gone. Dick would be allowed to go out and play.

Dick shrugged. "It was okay."

In truth, the boy looked relieved to Bruce. He had been worried when Animal Control had come to track the wolf. Bruce had attempted to ease his mind by explaining that they weren't coming to hurt the animal, but merely capture and relocate him to an area that was both safer for him and provide him ample hunting, but Dick hadn't appeared especially convinced.

"What else did Dr. Leslie have to say about your fingers?" Bruce asked this lightly. "Are they in danger of falling off?" He already knew the answer, of course. He had refused to leave until after Dick's course of shots were given and he knew the boy would be okay.

Dick wiggled said fingers in a show that they were still firmly attached to the rest of him. "No. She said I would have some cool scars from it, but that they would fade in time."

The worried look was back on his face, and Bruce silently cursed at his inability so far to produce the animal.

"I'm sorry, Dick," he apologized. "It looks as if the wolf left the grounds. Animal Control will begin searching the surrounding areas tomorrow, but unless they find something, you'll have to continue the shots to prevent rabies."

"It's okay, really, Bruce," Dick told him. "I only get one shot each of those days. It won't be as bad as today."

Dick patted his arm in an attempt to make his guardian feel better, and Bruce marveled at the boy's resilience and attitude. He turned back to Alfred.

"Have you made arrangements for repairing the wall?"

"Indeed, I have. The company had already sent a representative out to assess the damage. They will be out tomorrow at eight o'clock to begin cleanup and repair." Alfred informed him.

"Good," Bruce nodded.

"Look!" Dick's voice drew his attention. "It's snowing again."

Sure enough, it was. Big, fluffy flakes were drifting down in the fading light beyond the kitchen window. The boy scrambled over to the table in the corner and onto a chair so he could see the phenomenon better.

Bruce moved over to the window with him. Until the wall was repaired, he didn't like the boy near any of the windows. He had a feeling that sleep would elude him in the meantime.

"Tell you what," he said to Dick. "I'll be staying home to supervise the wall tomorrow." And check the area for clues as to what caused the damage in the first place. "But after lunch I'll be free. What say you and I go out and make that snowman we were talking about?"

The first big smile of the day appeared on the boy's face. Bruce felt his mouth upturn in response to it. He grabbed the boy off of the chair and swung him onto his shoulders.

"Now, how about you and I watch a movie before bed? Alfred can make some popcorn."

"Yay," Dick replied, happily.

"What movie do you want to watch?" Bruce asked him as they exited the kitchen. Dick had to duck low so as to not hit his head as they passed through the door.

"'An American Werewolf in London'!"

Bruce blinked up at the boy. "Are you kidding?"

Dick tilted his head. "'The Howling'?"

"Isn't that one about werewolves, too?"

Dick nodded, smiling.

"Might I suggest," Alfred interrupted from the doorway of the kitchen, "Hotel Transylvania'? I hear it has werewolves in it, and might be more suitable for a boy of Master Richard's age."

Bruce smiled in appreciation. "That one sounds more like it."

Dick scowled. "Isn't that a kid's movie?"

"You wouldn't want to have nightmares after watching scary movies now, would you?" Bruce asked him.

Dick bent over Bruce's head to stare at the man. He had faced down a wolf just last night in real life. "You're just saying that, aren't you? To make me feel better about watching some dumb cartoon."

"Is it working?" Bruce asked.

Dick giggled. "Yeah, I guess so. But it better be a scary cartoon!"

* * *

As it turned out, the movie was funny, and Dick had laughed all the way through it while Bruce had laughed at him. The two had teased one another all the way to Dick's bedroom saying "Bleh, bleh, bleh!' and pretending to bite each other's neck. The boy squealed, proving he was ticklish around his neck; knowledge that Bruce wasn't above using against the child in play. By the time, Bruce dumped Dick onto his bed, the boy had been laughing too hard to settle down to sleep right away, so Bruce had read to him another chapter of 'Alice in Wonderland'.

Once convinced that the boy was asleep and would stay that way, Bruce headed for the Batcave. He wanted to search the security system once more for any anomalies. Already he had plans to overhaul his system and add extra measures to the outer walls. He didn't want another breach to occur without being notified of it immediately.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and sunny.

Dick threw on clothes; layering them as Alfred had suggested. He ran downstairs, eager to explore the snow for the first time. He was only slightly annoyed when the butler stopped him by insisting that Master Richard eat breakfast first.

Bruce had already gone out to investigate the site once more before the workers arrived. Alfred would be replacing him to oversee the progress shortly afterwards. When Dick couldn't be convinced to wait on Bruce before going outside, he was pressed to remain within the vicinity . . . Or shouting distance, as Dick put it.

"Gentlemen do not shout," Alfred corrected, but agreed that the analogy was a sufficient description to what was allowed.

Dick was startled by the how sharp the cold was to his face and lungs, but thought the air smelled better than it had before the storms had swept through the area. The pollution had been stripped from the air, leaving it crisp and clear and fresh. He liked the way his boots crunched in the snow and how silent the world was in general.

He had a couple of hours before Bruce would be free to help him build a snowman, so Dick decided now was a great time to explore the maze. He figured that if he got lost, he could follow his footprints back to the maze entrance.

He entered it hesitantly. The hedges that made up the walls of the maze were tall; well over six feet. It felt a little creepy to him, so of course, Dick was fascinated. Immediately he was faced with a decision of which way to go. Dick went left.

He hadn't gone very far before he noticed a sound of a crunch. Dick halted.

Silence.

He shrugged and moved on, this time choosing right, but after a few feet, he heard the sound again. He froze, and this time another crunch was heard before it, too, stopped. _Was someone following him_?

"Bruce? Is that you?" Dick called out.

Silence answered him, but then came the sounds of someone walking; apparently no longer concerned about being heard. Dick waited. It could only be Bruce or Alfred, but why didn't they answer him? Then it hit him, and he smiled. Bruce and the butler were aware of his interest in all things scary. Bruce was trying to freak him out a little bit. He would learn that Dick didn't scare all that easily.

The footsteps could be heard moving just on the other side of the hedgerow. Dick grinned. He would surprise Bruce first. Dick began retracing his steps; careful to step in the same rhythm as his pursuer so that he wouldn't hear the boy's movements.

The corner loomed large and Dick pressed himself close to the hedge. He had to work hard to suppress his giggle. He didn't want to give away his presence too soon and spoil his surprise. As the person stepped around the edge, Dick jumped up and yelled.

" _Boo_! _Gotcha_! . . . What?" Dick stepped back, as startled as the stranger in front of him. He blinked. "Who are you?"

The man seemed to recover quickly. He smiled at the boy, but it wasn't a reassuring smile, nor even one of amusement. Dick's heart started pounding as his instincts went into overdrive. He began backing up.

"You are a hard person to find, Richard Grayson," the man said in a gruff, smoker's voice. "But for the amount of money I'm going to be paid, the work was worth it."

"P-Paid? What are you talking about?" Dick asked.

"Anthony Zucco. Ring any bells, kid? He's paying some mighty big bucks to anyone who can bring him proof positive that you are dead." The guy grinned. "Guess today's my lucky day."

Dick's eyes widened. He glanced behind him to see how close he was to the next corner. The man's hand shot out and grabbed Dick's arm.

 _How had he moved so quickly_?

Dick lifted his legs suddenly, one of them wrapping around the man's elbow and the boy's weight sent him staggering forward. Dick used his free leg to kick the man in the stomach. He lurched and stumbled to his knees. He released his grip on the boy in order to catch himself and Dick rolled away; coming up onto his feet in one smooth motion.

This time there was no indecision; no hesitation. He ran. The gunshot rang out loud in the confines of the maze.

 _Holy smokes_! _That guy was shooting at him_!

Dick didn't think, he just dodged and darted around corners; going first one way and then the other. A few minutes later, he stumbled to a halt at a dead end; struggling to catch his breath in the frigid air and to control his panic. Dick could hear the man running after him. He would catch up to the boy in just another minute or two. How easy this must be for that guy as all he had to do to find him would be to follow Dick's footprints!

He glanced around him and saw a thin branch jutting out; something the gardeners' missed the last time they trimmed the hedges apparently. Dick pulled at it, and noticed a small hole. With a little squirming, he thought he could squeeze through it and into the next corridor over. He twisted the branch; breaking it off to make room for him.

Dick climbed through the hole. Twigs scraped at his face and hands. Ignoring the stinging, Dick shoved his way through to the other side. Immediately, he turned and pushed back through, using his branch to erase the evidence of his passage in the snow. Just before the man rounded the corner, Dick pulled back through the hedge and left his branch in place; cloaking the hole he had uncovered. To his pursuer, it should look like Dick just disappeared into thin air!

It should buy him some time, he hoped. Dick scrambled to his feet and ran. Seconds later, he could hear the man cursing loudly.

"Damn you, kid! You can run, but I'm going to find you and then you're dead meat!"

Even if he _could_ evade the guy, Dick was hopelessly lost now. His only hope would be to find one of the other entrances and run back to the house or maybe hide in the surrounding woods. He saw another turn and burst through it and into a clearing.

It took a second before he realized he had found his way to the center of the maze. There was a fountain and a couple of small trees and a bench decorating it. Dick thought it might be pleasant in the spring or summer. He saw another opening in the hedge across the way. Four ways into the maze, but only two led to the center itself, he discovered.

He had taken only a few steps across when a low, menacing growl rent the air. Dick froze and turned his head. He had to blink to register what he was seeing.

It was another wolf . . . A white one this time, and female by the looks of it. Dick counted five pups huddling around her. She was big, but not the size of 'Bruce'. Not that it mattered. She was baring her teeth at him; her head low and her ears laid back. She looked as if she was but one heartbeat from leaping on him.

Dick licked his lips; his eyes darting around, looking for some way of escape. He had no treats with him this time. Animal Control had declared that 'Bruce' had left the area, so Dick had no reason to bring any food with him this time. Had no one thought to check the maze? Or perhaps they did, but couldn't find the center.

He could hear the man's footsteps crunching as he barreled closer and closer to Dick location. What could he do? If he tried to run, the female would pounce on him! If he stayed put, the hitman would catch up to him and shoot him!

He needed help! He needed Bruce! _His_ Bruce!

* * *

Bruce climbed over the breach in the wall; searching for signs of any recent passage. Despite getting another two inches of snow last night, he could see where Alfred had combed over the area. He hadn't been here since yesterday afternoon, and honestly, he didn't expect to find anything this time around either. The workers Alfred had hired had begun arriving at the site about the same time Bruce had, and too many people were tracking up the area for him to make any viable headway. He stepped through the breach to survey his property from this angle.

He moved out from the wall several yards to just inside of the wooded area that abutted the wall. Then he saw it.

A fresh bootprint . . .

Bruce glanced behind him. None of the men working to clear the loose stones had ventured this far. His gaze returned to the snow that lay between the opening in the wall and where he stood. It looked untouched at first glance, but here and there Bruce could see a scrape or two in the fresh powder that looked suspiciously like someone had covered his tracks with a branch.

It took only another minute and a few more steps for him to find it. The broken tree branch, now discarded. From here he could see more bootprints in the snow . . . heading off in the direction of the house!

Bruce spun around and ran toward the hole in the wall and where his Range Rover sat parked along the road. He knew he startled the workers, but the only thing Bruce cared about at that moment was reaching the manor before the owner of those boots could.

"Alfred! Where's Dick?" Bruce barked into the phone.

"He was playing in the snow in the backyard, sir," Alfred answered promptly. "May I ask why you are inquiring? Has something happened?"

"I found fresh tracks, Alfred. Just inside the wall breach." Bruce turned the steering wheel hard into the driveway. Even the four-wheel drive having trouble making the sharp turn at thirty-five miles an hour.

The gate had, thankfully, already opened enough for him to drive through without slowing. He hit the remote a second time to close it behind him as his foot pressed the gas once more. He shot forward up the driveway at forty-five mph. Not bothering to pull up to the front entrance, Bruce steered the vehicle over the lawn and around to the back of the house. He skidded to a halt just outside of the kitchen. Alfred was coming out of the door; his coat open and his shotgun in his hands.

"Where is he? Have you seen him?" Bruce leapt out of the SUV while it rocked a bit from the sudden hard stop.

"He didn't answer me when I called to him," Alfred told him.

At that moment, a gunshot rang out.

"The garden," Bruce yelled, and tore off in that direction; his butler not far behind.

A male voice could be heard shouting.

"They're in the maze," he yelled back at Alfred as he dove through the entrance. "Call 911!"

 _How far ahead of him were they_? _Had the bastard just shot Dick_? The fact that the man was now shouting gave him hope that the boy had gotten away from him . . . But for how long? Bruce followed the two sets of footprints; knowing the intruder would be doing the same thing in order to track the boy. He ran as fast as he could, barely slowing while taking the corners; praying he would find the owner of the boots before this guy could find Dick.

When a second shot rang out, Bruce's heart skipped a beat and then lodged in his throat. He couldn't be too late. He refused let Dickie down . . .

* * *

When the man burst into the center of the maze, the volume and tone of the white wolf's growl changed as did her position. She turned to the larger intruder with front legs splayed as she snapped.

The man's facial expressions would have been comical if the situation wasn't so dire. His gun jerked in the wolf's direction and he was seconds away from shooting her. It was no longer just about Dick's survival.

Dick ran at him; grabbing the arm with the gun just as the second shot rang out. The shot went high, and the bullet went over the wolf's head. He had to get the guy to drop the gun. Dick knew if he let go now, he was dead for sure. Last night Dick had been missing his parents enough to wish to join them, but in the morning light, his desire to survive was strong.

He bit down on the man's hand.

* * *

"Gah! You little shit," the man screamed.

He jerked the kid off of him and then used the gun to backhand the boy. The crack of metal against Dick's cheekbone was surprisingly loud. He flung the boy into the snow.

"That's it! No more second chances for you," the man growled at him. "No more angels sitting on your shoulder. No more Flying Graysons!"

He raised the pistol. One shot should do it, he was thinking, when a huge weight slammed into him; knocking him completely off of his feet. The gun flew from his fingers into the hedgerow.

* * *

Dick lifted his head. The man was talking, but Dick's ears were ringing so he couldn't quite tell what he was saying. Bright crimson blood dripped onto the snow beneath him. He turned his head to face his would-be murderer when something black plowed into the back of him.

Startled, Dick scrambled backward a bit, but vertigo prevented him from regaining his feet. It took a moment to recognize the black shape that was mauling the man as Bruce! Not his guardian, Bruce, but 'Bruce', his wolf.

The giant black wolf crunched down on the man's arm, and his scream was high and shrill enough to reach Dick through the ringing of his ears. The man's other hand scrabbled in the snow in search of his weapon, but before he could reach it, the wolf's jaws clamped onto the back of the killer's neck. His yell, this time, was halted mid-wail when the wolf shook the man like a rag doll; snapping the guy's neck.

It dropped him and stepped back; moving to the female and snuffling her. Its tongue licked her face when it seemed satisfied she was unharmed and the pups ran out to greet their sire. The black wolf held its nose down as each pup came over to jump at him.

Dick's attention was riveted on the man at his feet. His breathing was harsh and loud; his eyes wide as he waited for the guy to get up. He wasn't moving, however, and Dick was beginning to understand that he wouldn't be moving ever again. Steam rose from the ever-widening stain of blood that soaked the snow around the body. He must have made a sound because the black wolf turned to face him.

He felt real fear of the black wolf for the first time. It didn't seem to care one way or the other as it padded over to Dick. It sniffed at him, and Dick flinched away from the powerful jaws. The man's blood still dripped from its muzzle. It didn't try to bite him, however. In fact, it turned away from the boy and was moving back toward its mate when its head snapped up again.

The growl was menacing as it stared hard at the entrance that Dick had come through only minutes before. Bruce rounded the corner and stumbled to a halt at the scene splayed out in front of him. Dick was suddenly terrified that the wolf would attack Bruce like it did the man chasing him. He sat up, wondering if he was about to watch a repeat of the wolf mauling someone; his guardian this time!

* * *

Bruce nearly toppled to his knees in a bid to stop. The black wolf stood in the center of the maze next to a white female and a passel of pups. It was growling at him much as it had the other night, but if Bruce felt threatened then, it was nothing compared to the danger he was facing now.

His eyes moved to the left and he found Dick struggling to sit up. The boy's eyes were round saucers in his face, and he noted the darkening bruise on his right cheekbone surrounding a cut that still bled. He looked down at the owner of the boots and recognized a corpse. The black wolf muzzle was wet with the killer's blood.

He swallowed.

"Are you alright, Dick?" His voice remained calm despite the panic happening inside of him. "I heard shots."

Dick nodded. "Bruce saved me," he whispered.

Bruce blinked and then remembered that Dick had called the black wolf 'Bruce' when he had still been convinced that his guardian had been a werewolf. He stared at his namesake now, hoping he didn't have to fight the beast in order to get to the boy. He slid a foot to the left. He would keep to the sides of the hedgerow, bypassing the hitman to reach the boy.

This was why Animal Control didn't find the wolf yesterday. They had said they had checked the maze, but obviously they hadn't found its center. It had also been decided that the maze had stood too close to the house. The team determined that it was likely that the wolf wouldn't consider it safe to shelter so close to a human habitation. Instead, they had searched the woods surrounding it to no avail.

Bruce saw Dick start to move in his peripheral vision, and waved the boy still with one hand. "Don't move," he said to the boy gently. "Wait for me to get to you."

"It didn't hurt me," Dick told him. "The black wolf, I mean. I think it remembered me. It sniffed at me and then moved away."

"Hm, that's good," Bruce murmured.

Personally, Bruce didn't think he would get so lucky if the wolf suddenly took exception to his presence. It turned with him, keeping itself between Bruce and its mate and pups.

"Too bad we don't have any pork loin with us," he said, in an attempt to keep it light.

"I-Is . . . Is that guy . . . Is he d-dead?" Dick was staring at the body that was now at Bruce's feet.

"Don't look it him," Bruce ordered. "Look at me."

"B-But . . ."

"Do as I say," Bruce snapped. The wolf growled in response to the change of inflection in his voice.

Running footsteps could be heard coming near. Alfred!

"Alfred, stop! Don't come any closer," Bruce shouted.

The wolf had turned toward the opening; its hackles raised. The footsteps halted.

"Is everything all right, Master Bruce," Alfred's shouted back.

"So far, so good, Alfred. We found the wolf," he told him. "It and its mate are using the maze as a den. There are pups involved."

"Ah, I see," Alfred called out. "Wise to not exasperate the situation any further, then."

Although it might make Bruce feel more secure to have Alfred's shotgun leveled at the potential threat; he didn't want to have to kill the beast. He didn't believe the wolf to be a man-killer despite it having done just that. It obviously sensed the Dick's attacker as a threat and attacked him in order to protect its family.

It didn't seem to consider Dick a threat, luckily, and while it hadn't decided one way or the other about Bruce himself, it seemed content to allow him to reach for the boy. Bruce knelt beside Dick in the snow slowly.

The wolf backed further away; keeping both him and the opening of the hedgerow in view. Its hackles had lowered somewhat and its ears were no longer flat. The growling had ceased.

Bruce didn't entertain the thought that they were out of the woods yet. Anything could still set the animal off. The fact that it had pups and a mate kept the threat of another attack alive and fresh in his mind. He felt safe enough to turn his attention to the boy, though.

"Are you hurt," he asked, "other than the obvious?" He touched a finger to the child's swollen cheek gently.

"I-I don't think so," Dick told him quietly; wincing even at the light touch.

"Do you think you can walk?"

Bruce preferred to keep his hands free until they were well away from the wolves' makeshift den. He would keep the boy in front of him, however, in case they did need to run; that way Bruce could snatch him up in a heartbeat if necessary.

"Yeah, I can walk," Dick climbed to his feet with a little help from Bruce. "My knees feel wobbly," he complained.

"That's to be expected," Bruce told him; keeping one hand on the boy's shoulder. He chose to keep the state of his own knees to himself. That knowledge wouldn't help the situation by sharing it anyway.

They edged back along the side of the maze wall. When Dick moved to look down on the dead man, Bruce slid a hand under his chin and physically turned his face away.

"Don't look," he warned.

"But . . ."

"You don't need to see that," Bruce interrupted any argument. The boy's morbid curiosity would only haunt him come nightfall.

When Dick huffed in annoyance, Bruce felt his lips twitch upwards in spite of their current dilemma. There was that amazing resilience again. That the boy wasn't hysterical was impressive. That he regained his calm so quickly and able to follow commands in light of what had happened to him and after what he had witnessed was frankly astounding; particularly when one considered his youth. Bruce knew of grown men who would be naught but a blubbering mess were they in Dick's sneakers right now.

Dick waved to the wolf just before Bruce urged him through the opening that led back to the maze entrance nearest the house.

"What's going to happen to them," Dick asked.

"They cannot remain ensconced in my maze, Dick," Bruce answered him as they moved quickly now through the green corridor. "I'll have to call Animal Control to come back out today."

The boy's mouth turned down sadly. Bruce picked him up.

Dick looked startled by the move. "I'm okay, Bruce," he declared. "I can walk out on my own."

The wolf had turned away from them just as they disappeared around the corner, so Bruce felt reasonably confident that it wouldn't follow them out.

"I know you can, chum, but . . . just . . . humor me, okay? Carrying you will make me feel better," Bruce murmured to him.

"Did I scare you," Dick asked curiously.

"Yeah, Dickie, you did," Bruce admitted.

Dick met his gaze for a moment and then settled against him; sliding his arms around Bruce's neck. He laid his head down on the man's shoulder as Bruce moved into a trot. Another corner, and they met Alfred. The butler stood at the ready with his shotgun angled across his body.

"The boy?" The elder man asked with concern.

" . . . Is fine, Alfred," Bruce assured him.

"I took the liberty of calling Dr. Thompkins," Alfred informed them.

At this, Dick's head came up and he looked at Bruce seriously. "I won't have to get more shots, will I?"

That the child had just been chased through a maze by a killer and witnessed the man's violent death by a wild wolf, he seemed to have escaped relatively unscathed and appeared emotionally stable. His fear of shots abruptly struck Bruce as funny. He struggled to contain his chuckles, knowing the boy wouldn't appreciate them, but a few slipped out in spite of his efforts. Dick frowned at him.

"I'm sorry, chum," Bruce apologized, although the smile remained. "I think you won't have to worry about any shots today. And once the wolves are in custody, they'll be checked for rabies. If they are cleared, you won't have to get any more shots for that either."

Dick's expression brightened at that bit of news. His head dropped back down onto Bruce's shoulder for a couple of minutes more before popping back up as another random thought struck him.

"Are we still going to get to make a snowman this afternoon?"

Bruce's smile widened into a grin. "Sure thing, Dickie. We'll make time for it even if we have to turn on the spotlights and make him after dark. You _will_ get to build a snowman today!"

Amazing blue eyes sparkled at him as they exited the shadows of the maze and walked into the bright, late-morning sunlight. Bruce imagined years of snowmen building in front of them, and thought that forever was actually sounding rather nice.

Alfred moved off to greet the army of police that they could hear entering the rounds with sirens wailing as Bruce took Dick into the house. He would see the child settled and then go out and explain the situation more thoroughly. No one would be retrieving the man's body until after Animal Control got there anyway.

Suddenly, a howl rose up out of the cacophony. It was followed by another howl and soon by several more. Dick turned his head up and added his own howl to the chorus. He paused and looked at Bruce.

"Howl, Bruce," he commanded. "Come on, like this!"

Batman might not deign to howl at sirens, but for a minute or two that day, for the sake of the child in his arms, Bruce Wayne did.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **A short epilogue will be next to wrap things up.**


	8. Chapter 8 - Epilogue

**No Warning . . .**

* * *

"Are you going to capture Bruce?"

Carl looked down in surprise at the little boy standing beside him. He was checking out the truck with its cages as Carl and his three other partners readied themselves to go after two adult wolves and their pups.

"Um, I think you must be confused," he told the boy. "We're here for the wolves, not Mr. Wayne."

"That's what I meant," the boy said with a shy smile. "I call the black wolf Bruce. I haven't yet named the white one, but I've been thinking hard on it." The child sneezed abruptly, and he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Carl stopped and stared at the kid. He was cute; flushed cheeks, and a black mop of hair that wanted to fall in his very blue, blue eyes. "What's your name, kid?"

"Me? I'm Dick. Bruce is my guardian," Dick proclaimed, pointing at himself with his thumb. "Not the wolf, Bruce, but the person, Bruce."

Carl grinned. "Is that so?" He hadn't known Bruce Wayne had a foster kid or whatever. The boy called him his guardian. "And you've been naming the wolves, have you?"

"Sure! I'm the one who found them, after all," Dick said. He was frowning at the rifle that Hans had taken out of the back of the second van. "You aren't going to hurt them, are you? They didn't do anything wrong! Bruce was just protecting his family."

Hans stopped by Carl. He had swung the rifle over his shoulder. "I heard the black one killed a guy. Wolves are dangerous, you know, kid? You should be careful around them."

"Bruce never hurt me. He never attacked big Bruce either; just the bad man," Dick declared.

"Dick, that's enough," Mr. Wayne had stepped out of the front door to greet them. "Let the men do their work."

"But he's got a gun! He's going to shoot them!" Dick spun around. "Don't let them hurt the wolves, please!"

Carl put his hand on Dick's shoulder. "It's not a regular gun, Dick. Hans is carrying a tranquilizer gun. It will only put the wolves to sleep so that we can transport them safely."

He shot Hans a scowl. This was Wayne's kid! It wouldn't do to piss off a billionaire's kid because that was the way you ended up pissing off the billionaire, too. And an angry billionaire could mean trouble for everyone.

"Did you hear that? It isn't going to hurt the wolves. Now, you need to run inside. You aren't supposed to be out here without Alfred or myself." Mr. Wayne beckoned the boy.

"But you're here now," Dick pointed out to him.

Wayne smiled; knowing he had been caught. "Needless to say, you still should be inside for this."

"But . . ."

"Dick." Wayne's smile disappeared and the boy huffed.

"'Kay," he pouted; his shoulders slumping as his bottom lip slid out. He sniffled, and wiped his nose on his sleeve again. Mr. Wayne winced, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket; handing it to the boy.

Carl felt a twinge in the area of his heart. He was a real sap for kids and animals. He squat down beside Dick and turned the boy to face him.

"I promise . . . We won't hurt a hair on Bruce," Carl told him; he winked at Wayne's startled expression. "You said you've been thinking about a name for the other wolf? The female? You have any ideas in mind?"

Dick didn't look happier, but he was apparently satisfied that Carl and the others weren't murderers of innocent wolves. His head bobbed with an answer.

"Why don't you whisper it in my ear?"

Dick looked back at Bruce and at the man's nod, he grinned and leaned forward to whisper his choice of a name for the white, female wolf.

Carl's eyebrows went up. "Really? Are you sure about that?"

Dick nodded. His eyes twinkling; happy again. "It fits."

Carl laughed and stood up. "You can go inside without worry, kid. We'll take good care of your wolves for you."

Dick waved and scampered back through the huge door that marked the entry to the gargantuan house that Wayne called home. Carl met Mr. Wayne's gaze. The man was curious, but didn't ask. He'd probably wait to ask the boy, Dick, himself.

"You want to lead us around to the maze, Mr. Wayne?" Carl asked.

He had been with the team that had combed the property two day prior for the black wolf. They had tried checking the maze, but had only met with dead ends. He had almost gotten lost in the process. Luckily, there had been some snow on then, and he had managed to find his way back out without a rescue, but it had been a little hairy there for a while.

And to think . . . They might have missed the female and the pups!

* * *

 _*HERE BE THE STORY "THINGS CHANGE"*_

* * *

It was several days later that found Bruce on the phone in his study.

"Thank you, Commissioner," Bruce spoke into the handset. "I appreciate you researching this on my behalf."

Alfred entered the study and stood quietly; waiting for the call to end before interrupting.

"Did Commissioner Gordon have the information that you were seeking, sir?" Alfred asked this as Bruce hung up the phone.

"Merely confirming what I already knew, Alfred," Bruce said. "The teens involved in the wreck had been drinking. Only one had been injured, but not seriously. That was why there had been no reports of the accident in the emergency room. The boy driving had the car in the shop the next day, however." This was how Bruce had found him.

"His father is Howard Millner," Bruce told the butler.

"He lives not far from here," Alfred noted. The multi-millionaire owned a car manufacturing plant in Gotham City, and owned an estate that abutted the Wayne estate. "What was the boy doing on that road?"

The road in question cut through the property leading out to the cliffs. There was seldom, if ever, any through traffic for that reason. It was how the wolves and the hitman that came after Dick got onto the property.

"Apparently, he and his friends were taking advantage of the Millners' absence to have a little party," Bruce stood up and reached for the coffee that Alfred had brought with him.

The butler pursed his lips in disapproval. "One would imagine that he could have found a place on the Millner estate for such an event."

"Perhaps," Bruce said, sipping the hot beverage gratefully. "But not if he didn't want his father finding out. The people that Millner employs would have likely ratted the boy out to his parents. I have a feeling that if we took a trip to the cliffs, we might still find the evidence of young Geoffrey's little get-together."

"How did he get his car to a shop without the incident being reported to the police?"

Bruce snorted. "I'm sure Geoffrey's allowance is more than sufficient to ensure the tow-truck driver's and the repair shop's silence."

"Are you going to report to Mr. Millner of his son's extracurricular activities when he returns? We wouldn't want a repeat of this event since the entrance to the Batcave is located not far off of that road." Alfred tidied up as Bruce finished his drink.

"It is a private road, and has a sign designating it as such as well as it being 'no outlet'. I am assuming that that is part of its appeal to the younger set," Bruce said thoughtfully. "An automated gate should take care of the problem."

"One wonders how long such activities have been occurring on the property, does it not," Alfred asked.

Bruce shrugged. "Probably since before either of us were born, Alfred. But you're right. It cannot be allowed to continue, even if the entrance to the cave couldn't be reached from along it. Those cliffs are too dangerous."

"I find it hard to believe that the Batman wasn't aware of the presence of youngsters." Alfred collected the empty cup.

"I've known about it for years, Alfred, since I was in high school. But I had placed a road block on it about a mile before the turnoff to the cave. The kids have either moved it during their ventures or driven around it." Bruce stood and moved around the desk. "It has never been an issue before. I intend that it will never be an issue again."

"Very good, sir," Alfred nodded. "Should I contact the company that performed the wall's repair with the job?"

"That should be satisfactory," Bruce said. "In the meantime, I promised Dick that we would go see how his wolves are doing."

Alfred smiled as he followed the master from the study. "Does the young master know that the Gotham City Zoo has agreed to take them in temporarily until a proper habitation can be located?"

"Not yet," Bruce smiled. "I want it to be a surprise."

* * *

Because Dick still had a price on his head, Bruce had rented the zoo out for the morning at a substantial fee and with an equally generous bonus. The boy's love of animals was becoming increasingly obvious, and Bruce figured that more trips to the zoo would be occurring in the future.

He frowned at the thought of how much time in the future was allotted to them. Dick's stay at Wayne Manor was intended to be a temporary alternative to his stay in the detention center, which everyone agreed wasn't the ideal place for an innocent, eight year old boy to be housed. Once Zucco was located and brought to trial, the need for the continued price on the child's head should be eliminated; freeing social services to find a more suitable and more permanent home for Dick.

But . . . hadn't he just promised the boy forever?

Bruce sighed. Yes he had. There was an understanding there now between the both of them. To allow the child to be taken from him after this would destroy any trust Dick had left. Without trust, Dick would likely find himself at odds with every authoritative figure that entered his life. The idea that the next time he met up with Dick would be as the Batman left a foul taste in his mouth.

He argued with himself that he was more than likely overstating the potential for trouble and exaggerating the results. Dickie was a good boy. One broken promise wouldn't ruin the child's potential for leading a happy life as an honest citizen . . . But, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, it _could_.

 _It could_ , and it was that one, small, infinitesimal possibility that Bruce couldn't live with. Of all the failures the system produced, it would be _this_ one . . . this _ **one**_ that would eat him alive should it come to pass.

Dick had been chatting excitedly throughout the ride. If he noticed Bruce's distraction, he didn't complain. And when they stepped out of the back of the Bentley, the boy slid his tiny hand into Bruce's and smiled happily, _trustingly_ , at his guardian.

The feeling that hit Bruce in the chest wasn't a twinge so much as it felt like a battering ram.

 _Forever_ . . .

Bruce swallowed his bile and hurriedly shepherded Dick out of the open and through the gates of the zoo. They made their way over to a lemonade stand as they waited for Alfred to park the car and join them. Bruce had been surprised at Alfred's easy capitulation to the boy's request that he accompany them on the tour, but apparently Alfred was feeling the same effects of the boy's charm that Bruce had succumbed to at some point during these last couple of weeks.

He could even pinpoint the moment that it had happened to him. When Dick had been rattling off his numerous elephant facts as he had carefully wrapped Bruce's fingers around a rock just so . . . And the childish glee he had shown when Bruce had skipped the rock across the water for the first time.

Dick had just been so happy for him . . . His joy over helping Bruce succeed in that tiny task had literally spilled over, the child's body unable to contain it all, and onto Bruce! It had been years – _years_ , _God_! – since he had felt anything like it that Bruce hadn't quite recognized it at first. The warmth that had filled him; the joy . . . It had rocked his world and nearly sent him to his knees!

And he had craved the opportunity to experience it again ever since.

And he had! The evening that he and Dick had spent building a snowman had kept Bruce warm enough that he could have shed his coat and gloves without feeling the bite of cold. And the simple contentment of reading to the boy as he curled trustingly into Bruce's side as Dick had drifted off to sleep . . .

There it was again. Trust. He, Bruce Thomas Wayne, a man whose heart he had thought had withered and been buried with his parents, had earned the trust of a young, orphaned acrobat and discovered that his heart hadn't left him after all; that it had learned to beat again in the care of another one such as he. Perhaps . . . Perhaps it was possible that between the two of them, that Bruce and Dick could learn to heal the devastating pain that so primal a loss brought.

 _Forever_ . . .

He would need to contact CPS tomorrow and see what he needed to do to make Dick's stay with them of a more permanent nature.

"Come on, Bruce," Dick's happy voice cut through his brooding thoughts. "Let's go! The animals are waiting!"

"After you, chum," Bruce smiled as the child tugged him forward by the hand.

"No," Dick grinned and corrected, "together! All of us, together!"

Alfred caught Bruce's eye over top of Dick's head as they embarked on their tour of the zoo. The knowing gleam in the older man's gaze said that Alfred was well aware of the thoughts that had been swirling Bruce's mind almost non-stop over the last several days. By the look of it, Bruce decided that his butler no longer thought that having a young boy in the household was such a terrible idea.

* * *

"Wolves! Look, Bruce, they have wolves here," Dick cried out.

The boy's excitement had yet to wane since they had started. It had grown steadily throughout the morning despite the brisk chill in the air. Bruce thought that it had peaked at the elephant enclosure, but it was building again as he spied the newest addition to the zoo's compliment of animals.

"So they do, Dickiebird," Bruce acknowledged agreeably. "You want to go see them?"

It was a rhetorical question as both men knew the answer already.

"YES!" Dick shouted with enthusiasm.

Chuckling at the boy's exuberance, Bruce and Alfred allowed Dick to hurry them forward.

"I wonder how Bruce is doing," Dick asked.

"Why, I'm doing very well. Thank you for asking, Dick," Bruce smirked at the boy.

Dick rolled his eyes, grinning. "I meant Bruce the wolf," he clarified, "and his mate and pups."

"Oh," Bruce nodded, knowingly, "the _wolf_! Well, in that case, why don't you see for yourself?" He waved at the new enclosure.

"What?" Dick spun around and looked over the railing.

The glass railing separated the spectators from a large grassy region with a rocky waterfall built into the hillside. Tall pine trees covered about a quarter of the enclosure and a manmade den was cut into the hill that lead into an interior section that could be accessed by zoo personnel.

In the middle of it all stood an enormous black wolf and behind him lay his white mate with their five pups. The pups were an assortment of colors; black, white with a touch of black tipping its tail, a couple of black and white mix, and one that was gray and white. They were tumbling and climbing on their mother, while one adventurous pup, a black and white one, nipped playfully at its father's tail.

"It's _Bruce_!" Dick squealed in his surprise. "They're here!" He glanced behind him at his guardian. "Did you know," he asked. "Did you know that they were coming here?"

Bruce, the man, nodded with a small smile. "They told me they were bringing them here while they researched a good area to relocate them. This way they can be checked over to see that they are healthy and can be tagged so that their progress can be monitored in the wild."

Dick turned and waved to the wolves. "I wish I'd have known. I could have brought Bruce a treat."

"Perhaps you might be allowed to assist in preparing their food, Master Dick," Alfred suggested.

"I can feed them?" The boy's eyes sparkled at the thought.

"Ah, no; not in the actual feeding," Bruce quickly corrected. "Like Alfred said; in the preparation. Here's someone now who might tell us if that would be allowed."

A young, blonde woman wearing a tan coat that proclaimed her a member of the zoo's personnel approached the trio.

"Hi, you must be Dick" she greeted them all, but zeroed in on Dick. "I'm Heidi. I'm Gotham City Zoo's resident expert in wolves. I heard you are the person who discovered this beautiful pack for us." She was carrying a wooden sign with her, but it was angled against her leg; making it impossible to read.

Dick shook her hand. "I saw him from my bedroom window. They were sheltering in Bruce's maze."

Heidi's eyes lit up as she turned to greet Bruce and Alfred. " _Bruce_ Wayne, I presume? And this is . . .?"

"That's Alfred," Dick interrupted. "He's Bruce's butler!"

"Manners, Master Richard," Alfred corrected gently.

Dick ducked his head. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just so . . ."

"Excited. Yes, we can tell," Alfred smiled as his way of forgiveness.

Heidi was eyeing the butler. "So, you're Alfred! I wondered where that came from. The butler?"

"And cook, and housekeeper, and . . . Oh," Dick ducked his head again; shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. "Sorry."

"Yes, Alfred's all of those things and more," Bruce said, placing a calming hand on the child's shoulder.

Heidi laughed. "Well, that explains a lot."

"Indeed?" Alfred raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You seem to know quite a bit about us," Bruce noted.

Heidi laughed. "Not quite as much as you might think. The team that had collected and transported the wolves only told us so much. I think this might explain a few things," she said, turning the sign around and hanging it up on the enclosure's railing.

It proclaimed the inhabitants of the enclosure as American Timber Wolves with information on the animals in general and these animals in specific. Everyone's eyes widened to see that the sign introduced the two adult wolves as "Bruce" and "Alfred".

"We've been meaning to name the pups, too," Heidi smiled as she knelt down by the boy. "I think one of them should be named after you." She pointed out at the playful group. "Which one would you like to be your namesake?"

Dick's eyes, already huge, widened even more. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Heidi encouraged.

All of them watched the pups tumbling about, particularly the gray, the white, and one of the black and white pups. If any should represent the young acrobat, Bruce thought it should be one of those three.

"Definitely the white one has my vote," he murmured softly, to which Alfred agreed.

Dick tilted his head as he considered it. Biting his lip, he turned to Heidi.

"C-Could I name two more instead, please," he asked her quietly.

"I don't think that would be a problem," Heidi told the boy. Her eyebrows drew together as she contemplated the suddenly serious child in front of her. "Which ones?"

Dick pointed to the other two pups rolling about playfully. "Those two," he said. "The gray one is a boy, right?"

At her nod, he continued. "That one should be John, and could the black and white one there be Mary?"

"John and Mary?" It was obvious that she hadn't expected the boy to continue the series of common names. "Is that what you want?" She looked up at the large man standing so protectively over the child.

Bruce nodded. "I think those would be quite appropriate," he said, giving the boy's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Heidi climbed to her feet. "Well, I don't see why not. John, Mary, and Dick, it is." She looked out at the last two pups; another black and white one and the solid black. "I don't suppose you have names for them as well, do you?"

Dick lifted his gaze to hers. "Really? That would be too much, right?"

Heidi shrugged her shoulders. "You already named the others, so why not those two as well? Keeping it all in the family as it were. Go ahead? Do you have a couple more names?"

Dick's face grew brighter as he considered the last two pups. The second black and white one was batting at its father's tail and weaving between the large wolf's legs.

"Commissioner Gordon," he said as he indicated which one to Heidi.

"What?" Bruce asked, surprised. "Why the commissioner?"

"Because he was nice to me." Dick shrugged. "And he kind of looks like the commissioner, doesn't he? The white on his muzzle reminds me of his moustache."

A laugh was startled out of Bruce. "You're right, kiddo," he said. "It does me, too."

"How about just Gordon," Heidi suggested.

"Okay," Dick smiled.

He looked back at the solid black. This one was an inquisitive, little thing. It was poking its head in several places it likely shouldn't go and then suddenly it began digging a hole.

"What is that one doing," Alfred asked curiously.

"It appears that it's found something," Heidi murmured as they all watched the black's movements.

There was a brief tussle and soon the black pup emerged victorious with a field mouse routed from its winter home.

"Oh, I say," Alfred remarked at the sight.

Bruce smirked. "It looked like he got his man."

Dick jumped a little as a thought lodged in his mind. "I know," he gasped. "I know what to call him!"

"What's that," Bruce asked.

Dick was grinning now. Everyone was looking at him; awaiting his final proclamation.

"Batman!"

Bruce and Alfred exchanged a look. "Um, where did you hear _that_ name, chum?"

Dick glanced up. "He was on the news the other day," the boy explained. "The reporter said he had found this bad guy that the police had been looking for; just like the black wolf pup there found the mouse despite its hiding place. He's going to be a hero when he grows up, just like Bruce was when he caught the bad guy in the maze for me!"

His eyes flicked over to Alfred, but the butler's mien was as inscrutable as ever. Bruce cleared his throat. "I see . . ."

He supposed it did make a kind of sense. Bruce hadn't realized that the boy had become aware of his alter ego as yet.

"Do you think Batman could find my bad guy for me," Dick asked carefully. "I mean, if we asked him? Could he find Zucco?"

"I would bet he would give it his best shot, kiddo," Bruce assured him. "I'm pretty confident when saying that Batman wouldn't stop searching until he found him and brought him to justice."

"Can we ask him, Bruce? Can we?" Dick pleaded.

The day at the zoo had taken on different tone. Unintended perhaps, but one that was necessary and maybe a little helpful in the grand scheme of things. How could he resist those big, blue eyes? It could give the boy some comfort knowing that Batman had taken on his case.

"I'm fairly certain that Commissioner Gordon could send word to him for us," Bruce told him.

"Then, just like the little black pup and the mouse," Dick declared, "Batman will find the rat!"

"Well, since Batman's appellation is already taken, how about we call the pup Batwolf, instead." Alfred suggested.

Dick giggled at the title. "Batwolf! I like it!" He looked up at Bruce. "Do you like it?"

"Ah, well . . ." Bruce hemmed. Alfred was looking far too amused for his own good.

"Well, I do," Heidi proclaimed with enthusiasm. "I'd bet all of Gotham City will love that name, too!"

But Dick's eyes were locked solidly on his guardian. "Do you, Bruce? Do you like it?"

His hand found the boy's head and ruffled the unruly locks. "Even better," he said, "I bet Batman would like it."

Dick threw his arms around Bruce's waist. "Thank you, Bruce! This is the best day ever!" His eyes twinkling with real happiness. "I wish it could go on forever!"

 _Forever_ . . .

"Maybe it can, Dickie," Bruce murmured too softly for the boy to hear. "Maybe it can."

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **A happy ending that is merely the beginning of something special . . . something more, perhaps!**

 **Sorry, the last chapter took so long, but I'm hoping that it didn't disappoint. This author would be highly appreciative of any and all reviews given for this chapter and the story over all.**

 **And, of course, if you like it - then FAVE it!**


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